


Rhapsody

by FigureSgayts



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (More Character to be Added), (Very Slow), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Build, because why the hell not folks, i was given near nothing on it so guess what im bending it to my very will, im taking so many liberties with viktor's past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 53,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FigureSgayts/pseuds/FigureSgayts
Summary: He's been a star from the beginning. Both of his parents, Yakov, and all those around him, everybody who has seen him skate, knows it. Viktor, however, continues to see himself as nothing but a potential rising star. After all, he's only sixteen and is just making his senior debut. He can't be as good as everybody seems to be making him out to be, ignoring the small (large) collection of gold medals that he has. As such, all he wants to do is focus on improving and living up to the expectations thrown at him on and off the ice.However, only a few months before the start of his first senior Grand Prix series, a sharp blue smears itself right above his clavicle. Only in his dreams can it be bruise. The late appearance of a soulmark is enough to knock Viktor a little off balance mentally.This isn't to say that Viktor will reject his soulmate. In fact, he's willing to go above and beyond to do all he can for whoever they may be, but first, he's going to claw his way to the top. If everybody expects him to be a star, then so be it. He'll be the star that they want, and once he's at the top, nobody will be able to stop him from giving his all to whoever shares his mark. After all, he is Viktor Nikiforov.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fauk i wanna die please enjoy if u dont enjoy it well then #mood but still

_Crash._

The feeling of something solid connecting with Viktor’s legs throws him off guard and off balance. His eyes go wide, and his legs scramble in an attempt to keep him upright. But it’s a failed mission, and within a minute, Viktor finds himself falling with a loud thump as his body connects with the the cold ice below him.

Frustrated, Viktor turns his head head to look at who had run into him. He doesn’t know who the young boy is that stares up at him with wide eyes, soft face a rosy pink with the low temperature of the ice rink. Viktor is close to opening his mouth to yell at the boy, anger bubbling in him, when he sees tears gathering in the quickly reddening eyes of the boy. He quickly reconsiders the move. Instead, he raises to his feet, and holds a hand out to the little boy, trying his best to give a reassuring smile to him.

The little boy looks at Viktor’s hand for a second before grabbing it, his grip as strong as Viktor could expect from someone hiss size. Viktor lets a small, reassuring smile spread across his face as he pulls the boy up. “Are you okay?” he asks.

With the small click of skates connecting back with the ground, the boy is back on his feet, though his unsteadiness on skates is obvious. “Y-yes,” he stutters, lowering his eyes down to his feet. “Thank you very much sir, and I’m… I’m sorry for running into you.” Nervously, he pulls his hand back, and he wobbily skates off to the side before Viktor can respond.

“Vitya!”

The shout pulls Viktor’s attention, and he looks over to Yakov, who is standing outside of the edge of the rink. What does he want?

“Come in, we will continue tomorrow. When there are less people here.” The last part is added last second, a pointed look going to the door that the little boy had made a quick escape through the exit.

Despite not wanting to leave just yet, Viktor complies, knowing better than to try and argue with his coach. Arguing never works. Viktor learned that lesson very quickly. With a nod of his head, the sixteen year old quickly makes his way off of the ice.

As soon as Viktor bends down to undo his skates, off to the side of the small opening to the ice, Yakov starts talking. “If you're going to insist on this much practice time with me out of the normal set times, at least do it at a more private, less busy rink, Vitya,” he says, annoyance clear in his voice. "Things like people running into you is a distraction. It ruins a practice, throwing you out of where you need to be. It throws off of your concentration. Not to mention that it's rather taxing on me to have to... commute like this. You aren't special enough to have me running from one place to another.”

“I was fine, Yakov,” Viktor tells him, but doesn’t argue with his coach beyond that.

“I saw it in your eyes. You had become distracted. You wouldn’t have been able to practice properly if you had continued on. You’re too young. You’re attention span is too small.”

Irritation grows in Viktor as Yakov continues to speak. As a skater, Viktor can take criticism - it’s nothing new to him - but the way Yakov speaks so little of him, thinks he knows so much about Viktor based solely on his age, is quickly beginning to piss him off. Yakov knows nothing of how well he can concentrate. He knows he could have gone back into the mindset of practice swiftly and easily, but he doesn’t say so. There’s no use in saying it. Yakov has always been a stubborn, sturdy minded man, hard to be swayed in anything.

“I’m going to go home, then,” Viktor says instead. He doesn’t feel like hanging around Yakov. Not right now.

“Fine, but I expect you to be at practice tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp,” Yakov tells him firmly.

“Yes, yes,” Viktor grumbles, grabbing his skates in his hand and walking to where his bag sits against a wall. “I will see you then, Yakov.”

“You’re a good skater, Viktor,” Yakov says, his tone changing to that of a more fond nature, if that’s possible with Yakov. “You can go far, I know. You just need to practice. You’re sixteen and can already near flawlessly land two quads, and another you have down to about a fifty percent success rate. You just need practice, and you can be seen as the best figure skater on the ice. You're already winning golds left and right, even before you hit the senior division."

Viktor nods his head absently as he shoves his skate into his bag and zips it. “And so I will practice,” he says.

The walk home is chilly, but, in a way, refreshing. The cold air of late September persistently bites at Viktor’s nose and fingers, the tips of his ears beginning to grow numb, but it helps to clear his mind a little. It helps his thoughts drift away from Yakov’s all-knowing speech.

The approaching skating season mildly worries Viktor, the rapid advance of time leaving him little room to think of other things. He plans on really trying to start making a name for himself this year, and so he needs to be trying his best. He needs to be doing his best. Distractions can’t be made a common occurrence for him off the ice, but on the ice, Viktor feels he needs to be exposed to them more than already. They’re necessary to grow as a skater. In a competition, you can’t afford to be taken down by a fall. You can’t let a small thing put you off guard. Distractions must be fought through, and if Yakov thinks that Viktor will learn how to deal with these things without being exposed to them out of competition, he must be insane. While no skater wants to miss a landing during a competition, the reality of the situation is that it does happen. It’s unavoidable.

It doesn’t take long for Viktor to make his way home, and once he is, he quickly makes his way up to his room to drop off his bag. Neither of his parents are home yet, which would be unusual if Viktor wasn’t home earlier than normal. But he’s happy about it for now. Being alone will give him time to think without the interruptions that Yakov seems to think he can't handle.

Viktor makes his way to the washroom and stares at himself in the mirror as he turns on the water. What stares back is a young, naive skater. His face is already beginning to grow sharp, puberty really starting to make itself known in the dropping and cracking of his voice, yet he still manages to hold a young, light feel about himself. No facial hair is present, but Viktor thinks that the lack of this on his face is made up for by the amount of hair he has on his head, which continues to grow even longer, reaching down far past his shoulders and down his back, than he’s ever had it before. Maybe, if - when - he cuts his hair again, Viktor will try with facial hair, but for now, he’s content with keeping his face smooth and clean. It makes him feel almost like a prince, or a faery.

After the water reaches a warm enough temperature, Viktor leans over the sink and splashes some on his face. But he doesn’t feel any change to his mind or thoughts, doesn’t feel anything become clearer. In all honesty, Viktor actually didn’t know what he was expecting to gain from it, but he’s still disappointed by the lack of anything happening.

As he looks back up at himself, Viktor notices just how tired he looks, bags already collecting under his eyes. He feels tired as well. He’s only sixteen, yet he feels like he’s already lived so many lifetimes with the way Yakov is pushing him. Not that Viktor doesn’t want it for himself, isn’t pushing himself too, but it’s taking on a toll on him.

He’s caught a little off guard with a small longing for a break. Or, not even a break, maybe, but a rest. Something small. But at this time of the year, anything like that would ruin Viktor.

With a sigh, he unzips his jacket and pushes it off of his shoulders. The least he can do is change into something that isn’t what he’d wear for skating. He’s at home. He doesn’t need to be thinking about skating right now. He can take a mental break. It’s the closest he’ll be able to come to what he wants, and so he tugs down his pants, carefully stepping out of them. He nudges them over by where he jacket rests on the floor, before pulling his shirt over his head.

When he looks at himself in the mirror again, Viktor feels the breath fly from his lungs. His eyes go wide, immediately falling to the impossible spot that sits on his upper chest. It’s a spattering of dark blue that was surely not there that morning when he had gotten dressed. He would have noticed it.

“What the hell?”

Viktor moves his hand up to the mark sitting right above his left clavicle, hoping that when he touches it, he’ll feel the dull ache of a bruise. It’s a pain he’s more than accustomed to after years of skating, and he had fallen today. This must have just come from the fall. But as his hand rests above the mark, his mind reminds him that when he fell, nothing had hit against his chest. He knows it can’t be a bruise, and when his fingers push hard into the skin without any pain, it’s confirmed. Not a bruise.

“Fuck. No. Not now.” Shit. Viktor has so many other things to be worry about, and doesn’t need this to add on to it. “This isn’t… no. It can’t be.”

But really, there’s not denying it. There’s nothing else that the small burst of blue could be. The small spattering of colour that almost looks like an exploding firework can only be that of a mark of a soulmate right at the beginning of Viktor's debut in the senior division of skating.

“Ah shit.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im supposed to be doing english homework but guess who isnt doing english homework (it's me)

Viktor does his best to ignore the mark on his chest. He never walks around mirrors - or other people - with a bare chest, never looks down at himself unless he has a shirt on, and doesn’t let anybody else know about the mark’s appearance. For the most part, he just pretends like it doesn’t exist. Out of sight, out of mind. He can't allow it to become a distraction, not now when he's just dipping into the senior division.

But it’s difficult to hide it. Viktor is, if nothing else, a determined man, and he refuses to let the mark get in the way of his performances. If anything, it’s an unconscious fuel that helps him strive to always do better so that someday he can give his soulmate the best of the best. Yakov is thrilled by this. However, the way that Viktor advances in his skating makes it more and more difficult to hide as competitions loom over his shoulder.

It doesn’t take long for Viktor to come face to face with the issue of costumes. It’s a smack in the face, the first time it happens. Before, his outfits had been flashy and showy, but now, he realizes, they must be a bit more conservative than he’s used to. He needs something that will hide his mark - something a bit more than just makeup. He doesn’t want even a small flash of it to be shown. It’s his to see, not some strangers who have come to watch him. The biggest issue with this is that stands out so brightly against his pale skin. It’s almost like a curse, he thinks. A wonderful curse.

Viktor doesn’t know what’d be worse. As a skater, this spot is torturous. He now needs to work costumes around the top of his damn clavicle, which means he won’t be able to bear much of his shoulder, or even any of it at all. But is it any worse than the poor people who end up having their marks appear in odd places like the inner thigh, or on a hip, where it’s hard to display it to a soulmate without a small bit of embarrassment? Maybe, Viktor thinks, it wouldn’t be so bad if he had to bare his ass to his soulmate. At least then he wouldn’t have to cut his outfit options down to such a short amount for competitions and shows. The appearance of a skater is almost as important as their performance when it comes down to fan base after all, and to rise to the top, Viktor needs all the options that he can get.

Nevertheless, Viktor does make sure he has an input on what he wears. He’s firm with Yakov when he says that he won’t wear anything too revealing. When Viktor lays the news on his coach, he swears Yakov almost has an aneurysm, but in the end, his wish is granted. The few outfits laid out for this season all will keep his mark out of sight from all viewers. Not that Yakov knows that's the reason for the choice.

The months turn, and the seasons change. And fall turns into winter. Viktor is caught with his first bit of emotions from his soulmate when he’s at a practice. It’s some weird feeling of excitement and confusion, mixed and jumbled. But he makes sure to not let this show, and attempts to send back his own burst of  _something_. Whether or not it’s received, he doesn’t know.

Winter seems to stretch on and on through the Europeans where, at the age of sixteen, he takes home gold. Spring blossoms, just as it always does in Russia, which brings Viktor with a bronze medal in the World Championship much to his delight. And then Spring gives way to Summer without much more happening beyond him seeing his name spread everywhere. Even though the warm weather brings skating “out of season”, Viktor can still be found on the ice at least four times a week, already restless for fall to arrive again, for a new season to make its way up to him. This last one came with a new name rising up from Russia - his name, which he had proven to be a big name.

Viktor Nikiforov, only fifteen, awed people of the skating world with a young skating debut. At sixteen, he went further than anybody expected with his winning silver in the senior Grand Prix final, a gold in Europeans, and a bronze in the Worlds. But this year, Viktor is seventeen, and he’s looking to go further. He’s nearly done with his schooling, and that means he is almost at the age where he can truly prioritize skating. He can focus on making his way to the top. Because he will do it.

And then, once Viktor puts himself on top of the skating world, he’ll reveal it. He’ll do it at a Grand Prix Final, of course, or maybe Worlds, when everybody is watching. The biggest issue may be Yakov; there’s no way that he’ll allow Viktor to go through with the plans if he’s given previous heads up. His streak of wearing concealing clothes will be broken, and he’ll wear an outfit that puts his soulmark on full display for the entire world. He’ll proudly bare it for his soulmate, wherever they may be, and he’ll show them just how he can give them the world.

He has the whole thing planned out as far as he can possibly have it. Now all he has to do it execute it.

 

Yakov is the first to really notice when Viktor gets distracted a year and a half into this game plan of Viktor’s. It happens when he misses a simple quad toe loop, a bad take off making it impossible for him to keep himself over his feet, and Yakov is immediately on his ass about it.

“What was that, Viktor?” Yakov shouts, leaning far over the elbow height wall separating the ice from the outside. “How can you miss that? Are you stupid? Again!”

Viktor is tired, both physically and mentally. But he goes up anyways, running a hand through his long hair. Yakov is right. There’s no excuse for him having missed that. It’s not like it’s anything difficult for him anymore. So he shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and mumbles an apology.

The program has to be restarted. The fall, unexpected, left Viktor a little disoriented, and he needs to get his mind back in the game. The Grand Prix is coming up, and he can’t be getting caught up with some stupid fall like this.

However, the fall is hard for Viktor to get past. Even when he finishes a run through of the program, this time landing everything near flawlessly, it doesn’t allow what happened to leave his mind. What if he does it again? What if his next fall is in front of judges, and he finds himself in such a similar stage of shock that he can’t get up again? He can’t let it happen. He can’t allow his body to start failing him now. Viktor needs this. He needs skating, it's all he has to his name. If he starts to suddenly lose it now, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself.

“Vitya, head out of the clouds,” Yakov scolds him as Viktor skates over to the sides. “If you don’t get yourself back down to Earth, you will have more slip-ups and falls. You’re too talented to be letting yourself go to waste on some silly thoughts.”

Silly thoughts. Silly. Yakov’s words ring true. Viktor just turned nineteen, but he’s still old enough to not be allowing these things to distract him. He’s experienced enough to be able to push this shit away. Any strange feelings he’s experiencing can be dealt with later. He needs to keep his head here on the ground right now. Here in this race to the top.

“Yes, Yakov,” Viktor says. But it doesn’t sit well with him. His thoughts don’t seem right. He turns around quick when Yakov tells him to, but the actions seem robotic as he continues to go through the motions of the skating.

The practice is needed. Viktor knows he can’t succeed without it. He needs this to clear his mind. Viktor Nikiforov is a skater. Both his body  _and mind_  are necessary to meld with the music he is given. They need to get lost in it. No distractions can be afforded.

A dull ache bursts into Viktor’s chest, but he pushes it away. He’s been feeling it a bit lately, but right now isn’t the time for it. It’s insignificant. When he feel a small tug of longing, he disregards it. Not now. He pushes away this feeling of wrong because he is on the ice, and when Viktor is on the ice, he can’t be feeling anything but right.

This is Viktor’s territory. He’s going to be the best skater. He has to be the best. Nothing else matters.

 

The hardest part of being a skater, Viktor thinks, isn’t actually the skating itself. It’s the toll put on the person. The mental strain. While the physical exertion for sure wears a person down, being sore doesn’t compare with the mental side of things.

Skating is stressful above all else, especially when it comes to competitions. Viktor is persistent - lord knows he’s persistent - but the mental and emotional sacrifices that come with this persistence takes their toll on him, and it can’t be hidden forever. All the times Viktor has stayed late with Yakov, all the shouting and pushing of himself, exhausting himself on purpose, depriving himself of all contact until he succeeds on things, all the times he’s ignored the bursts or feelings from his soulmate, all the times his own yearning for some form of comfort are smothered, it all comes slamming down on him. His very being has been marked by all the times he’s denied himself the most basic of things as a form of punishment.

Viktor had gone home earlier in the day, but he finds himself back at the rink once more, this time completely alone. Nobody but the building owner was left when he came crawling back to the place. It was only with a small wad of cash that Viktor was allowed to enter again.

He skates slowly around the ice, not really thinking or feeling, simply existing. The cold in the room is enough to keep him mostly present, somewhat aware of where he is, but he is still able to keep thoughts pushed from his mind for some time. Right now is a time for rest. The very place that seems to almost be killing his mind is also the only safe place he can think of, the only place he can think to escape to.

Viktor can only keep his thoughts clear for so long. Soon, even the numbing feeling of the lazy laps isn’t enough to hold back the flood of feelings building up inside of the man.

The first feeling is a bit of anger mixed with self-doubt. It’s the feeling that he isn’t good enough. It seems that no matter how hard Viktor works, he always finds himself with the most stupid of mistakes like the one done earlier in the day. No matter how much he practices, he can’t seem to get things perfect. He won't ever be the perfect skater he strives to be.

It’s not fair, Viktor thinks. He’d give up his soul for this sport, and what does he get in return? Pathetic failures, slip-ups that only those new to the ice should be experiencing, not somebody who's been on it for more than a decade. Why is Viktor the one with these damn problems? “It’s not fucking fair,” he mutters. “Why can’t I be better? G-d, for all the people that like to flash the cameras on me, they don’t see it. They don’t see what’s wrong. Not yet, but one day, I won’t be able to hide it. I’ll be revealed to the world as the fool that I am.” They’ll see him fall. It’s only a matter of time.

With a sigh, Viktor stops his skating for a second and looks across what, to his tired mind, looks like a never ending stretch of white ice. This is where he’ll always belong. He’s not worthless, at least not here. “This is where I belong,” he says to the empty room. “I can show it. This is my home.”

 

He takes a deep breath in and releases it, closing his eyes. One foot goes forward, then another. It takes no time for Viktor to make himself go flying down the ice, snapping his eyes open again. His hair flies free behind him, nothing holding it or him back. As he draws his right leg forward, his muscles tense in the smallest of ways. And then Viktor isn’t on the ice anymore. He’s in the air, hair making an effort to plaster itself to his face as he twists through the air once. Twice. Three times. Four. Adrenaline is already starting to flow through him, slowing down time. He feels free for the moment, like he’s safe.

Things come crashing down quickly. Viktor tries to land properly, but can’t even manage to get his feet underneath himself. It causes him to go down to the ground hard. He keeps his arms tucked into his body as he falls, not daring to risk an injury this close to any competitions, but he’s still faced with pain as he hits the ground, head kept a mere  inch above the ice with immense difficulty.

He fell. Again.

It’s a tipping point. Tears gather in Viktor’s eyes as he lays on the hard ground, and he does nothing to stop them from streaming down his face as he rests his head down on its cold surface. It burns his cheek, but the feeling doesn’t matter. He ignores everything, the soft music that had been playing not even appearing in the background of rushing blood and emotions. As he begins to shake, Viktor is hyper aware of his tears hitting the ice below, freezing quick against the cold. The worst part is that he’s not even quite sure what is it he’s crying about.

From somewhere in the deepest parts of Viktor’ mind comes a small warmth, almost like a small light being lit in this darkness, a flickering flame ignited. It’s curiosity and comfort mixed into one, and Viktor grabs onto it without even knowing what it is. It feels safe, and he never wants it to go away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yfip: me - had this chapter typed out for SO LONG and just forgot to post it
> 
> uh translation for lyrics at the end i guess??? the [small portion of] song i use in this thing is Klouny (Клоуны) by t.A.T.u

In the days following, while Viktor is more reserved, he performs exceptionally well. He also doesn’t feel any more from his soulmate. He’s inclined to feel disappointed, but he tells himself that it’s good that he’s not receiving some stranger’s emotions while busy on the ice. But it does feel more quiet than it should be. While before his soulmate had seemed prone to emotional outbursts, now they seem to be restricting themself.

Not even that small feeling of longing that would sometimes be present is there. He almost misses it. _Almost._

Thankfully, it doesn’t take Viktor long to get himself thrown back into a storm of action. Despite not having won gold in anything but the Cup of Russia last year, it’s still predicted that he’ll be back in large competitions this year. Viktor isn’t about to let them be wrong.

Yakov wants for Viktor to make it to the European championships this year, and Viktor is all for it. However, his coach also has been hinting a return to the Grand Prix, which Viktor doesn’t want. A break from the entire world would be nice. Europe’s eyes are enough for him this go around.

Skating becomes everything again. Between his new dog, Makkachin, and skating, Viktor’s attention and time seems to always be filled. He loses contact with many his old school friends that weren’t in skating, and family seems to simply drift away from him. Viktor doesn’t exactly notice it, too absorbed with his work as he is.

Nobody is surprised when the time comes when it’s announced that Viktor qualifies for the Europeans. The beginning of the season had been long practice after long practice. Everybody working alongside Viktor pushed him to try and make it to World, but Viktor had pushed back. He is just fine with keeping World for some other time when he isn’t worrying about his mental state, even if it’s just next year.

Once Viktor’s qualification is confirmed, the days seem to fly by faster than the speed of light. January approaches too fast for Viktor, who’s long yet short days are spent on the ice for the most part. There are days where he’ll go in with the sun having not yet risen, and then leave just as the sun finally sets behind the horizon. Time blurs, and he feels the only thing keeping him sane anymore is Makkachin.

Two days before the competition and he’s the only one that he’ll even talk to.

“I’m exhausted, Ma,” Viktor sighs, sitting himself on the floor. As if sensing his distress, Makkachin walks over to him slowly, paws making a small, light pattering sound along with the clang of his collar tags. “What do I do?”

With a thud, Makkachin sits down next to Viktor before sliding into a laying position. He rests his head on his lap, and Viktor immediately buries a hand into his fur. In response, he lets out a heavy sigh of satisfaction, urging him on to pet him.

 

“Yes, I know I've been working very hard,” Viktor says, sending him an amused look. “And I’m sorry that I haven't been giving you all of my attention, but I really need help here now. I don’t know what I’m doing with my myself, Makkachin.”

Another sigh. “I can’t just rest. it's not that easy. You know that. I need this.” The words ring back and forth in his head. ‘I need this. He does, doesn’t he? He needs the practice and winning. Hell, he needs the competition that is brought to him. “I can’t just sit down on this.”

Makkachin’s fur is soft beneath Viktor’s fingers as he continues to pet him. He doesn’t know what he’d do without his dog. Probably forget to take care of himself even more than he already does, and grow even more irritable due to the loneliness. His companionship has become so important to him in these last few months, especially with the sudden absence ofthe larger than realized presence of his soulmate.

“You know, I almost miss them. It was nice knowing when my supposed other half was happy. I could feel happy, too.”

Viktor wonders what it would be like if his soulmate were actually here with him. What would they look like? How would they act? Would they support and comfort him, or would they complain about how much he’s working? He doesn’t think he could handle if someone else were to be beating him up on his work. Not right now, at least. He knows how hard he is on himself, and how he really isn’t doing the most healthy things for himself and others. He knows he’s pushing others away, but he needs to finish this. It hurts him a lot, and if someone else were telling him about what’s he’s doing, he doesn’t think he could handle it.

But it’s times like this that Viktor does long for a little more than a dog can give him. What he’d give to be able to forget everything and get lost in somebody else’s eyes, to be able to hold them close as he runs a hand through their hair, or to just sit down and cuddle, to rest. He wants to be able to give his heart to somebody else. To sit there for hours with somebody and enjoy them and kiss them. No matter how many times Viktor has thought about how the feelings of his soulmate could get in the way of his job, he misses them. He wants them here with im now.

Viktor wants somebody to give all of his heart to.

Something cold and wet rubs itself along Viktor’s cheek and he laughs while pushing Makkachin back from him. “Not the type of kisses I was thinking of, but thank you.” As if in response, he gives him a small lick on the side of his neck before backing down. “Good boy,” he whispers, once again running a quick hand down his back.

Really, he doesn’t know what he’d do without his faithful furry companion.

“Sometimes I think you're the only thing keeping me sane.” Whether or not the comment is directed at Makkachin or his soulmate, Viktor doesn’t know.

 

The day before the Europeans, Viktor and Yakov fly to France where they're being held. Despite the end of January approaching, the weather is fairly reasonable in Viktor’s opinion. Yakov warns him, however, to not tempt fate. While it doesn’t feel as bad as the weather in Russia, he still needs to be dressing properly to avoid getting sick right before competitions.

The day ahead looms like a dark cloud and has Viktor in his hotel room feeling completely unprepared. Yes, he’s grown more than confident in his ability, but that doesn’t keep the nerves from attacking him the night before. No matter how confident a person, it’s only right to be worried. Only a fool would be cocky enough to launch themselves headfirst into something like this and think that they’re going to win just like that. Yes, Viktor knows how good he is, and yes, he has faith in himself, but he also knows the other skates didn’t make it to the Europeans for nothing.

He plans to sleep in until the very last moment. No sleep can be wasted, not tonight, and so he quickly strips for a shower as the clock strikes ten. He needs all of his attention on skating tomorrow, and none on being tired. He needs to be awake and alert, and his body needs to be ready to perform to the best of its ability.

The water doesn’t take too long to warm up, and once it’s at a good temperature, Viktor is immediately under it. It feels heavenly as it falls against his skin. The small pattering feels good, welcoming, and he loses himself in the feeling. He stands there for some time, just letting the water cascade across his shoulders and back. He’s able to lose himself in the feeling for a few minutes.

Almost unconsciously, a hand makes its way up Viktor’s chest, settling across his right shoulder. Over his mark. He looks own as hand hand slips away, the blue doing nothing but catching his eye, unable to hide even under the glistening coat of water over it. In a way, it's even more beautiful like this. It definitely represent something beautiful, something that almost feels forbidden to him.

“Soon,” Viktor says softly, eyes drooping as he continues to look at it. “Soon.”

A wave of calm rushes over Viktor while he washes himself, and when he steps out of the shower, it’s with a grin. _very_ soon, he hopes, it will be time.

Nothing more than loose sweats are bothered with, mostly due to Viktor’s discomfort at the idea of sleeping naked in a hotel room. Once his legs are covered, he crawls under the warm sheets on his bed and lets sleep overtake him.

 

It’s to the annoying blast of his alarm that Viktor wakes up. Immediately, he swipes his finger across the screen to turn off the blaring sound. He wastes no time in flying out of bed; he has no time to spare.

Yakov had never been impressed with Viktor's tendency to sleep in until the last moment before competitions, but Viktor knows it a necessary thing for him. He doesn’t function well under stress, and being tired when on the ice and supposed to be landing jumps properly is enough to make anybody stressed. Of course, Yakov also tells him that there’s no reason to be stressed; Viktor never says anything in response to that. And hey, he’s never been late before. Yakov has nothing to be worried about.

Even with how late he slept in, Viktor still makes it to the rink ten minutes before he needs to be there. Yakov is there waiting for him, and Viktor shoots him an assuring smile as takes his place by his coach’s side. He can do this.

“Do well, Viktor,” Yakov says, his voice portraying a softness he doesn’t normally let off. It’s one of those few moments where Yakov actually lets the fact that he cares slip through. And he does care. Under that cold exterior that Yakov likes to put off is still a heart.

“I still have some time left, Yakov,” Viktor reminds him, falling into step behind Yakov as the other man starts to make his way into the large, cool room for the warm-up.

“Doesn’t mean that I can’t wish you good luck.” Viktor laughs at that; Yakov has a point.

The warm-up is uneventful. Viktor doesn’t risk anything, sticking only to some jumps he knows he won’t falter on. He doesn’t dare waste any real energy on it, though. While he is still young and energetic, he didn’t sleep so much last night for nothing. He needs everything he has.

Viktor watches the other performances, and in no time, it’s his turn to step back onto the ice. He slowly strips himself of his coat to reveal his blue and purple outfit underneath. The crowd goes silent as he makes his way into the middle of his stage.

An introduction is given, and the music starts. The moment the lyrics hit Viktor’s ears, he’s moving, eyes dropping half way as his body begins to twist. _”Poprosi menya... Poprosi menya…”_ The words flow through him, the music all he notices. _”Poprosi menya…”_ The crowd no longer matters. Only his own body and the music. Only the ice stretched out beneath his feet.

_“Ogon’ki privychnyye gasnut i konchayutsya. Tol'ko bezrazlichnyye fonari kachayutsya.”_ He twists to turn extravagantly, spinning, showing off his body, and dares to let his eyes slip close. He has done this program enough times to trust the simple muscle memory to take him where he needs to go. _“Mysli postoronniye, lishniye, ne novyye.”_ He starts small with a triple axel, the landing perfect. Nothing now can break his concentration.

Faintly, in the background, Viktor can hear clapping. The announcer say something, but what it is, Viktor doesn’t know. He just continues to move. Slowly, his eyes open again, allowing him back into the world of the light. As the sight of the oncoming wall, Viktor quickly turns away, moving instead alongside it.

He gains speed, going faster, faster, while keeping his top open and flexible, spreading himself out. His legs inch apart, head thrown back, arms thrown out behind as he moves. In a blink of the eye, they draw back in on him and his legs tense and goes flying through the air for a quad loop. As his left foot hits the ice again, his knee bends, allowing his right leg to be extended. Again, he hears shouting from the crowd. He is Viktor Nikiforov. He will do it all.

Viktor takes a deep breath, again closing his eyes, drawing his hands together into his chest. One leg pushes back, the tip of his going against the ice, and once more he is going through the air. It’s a triple Lutz, triple axle combination. His eyes fly open, wide as he comes down faster than expected. A choked gasp escapes from him as he shakily catches himself. While the landing isn’t perfect, he doesn’t fall, and the crowd erupts.

While now a bit shaky in his feet, Viktor doesn’t allow the trip to affect him. He can still end big. He spins once, twice, three times before stretching himself out into his final jump: a quad Salchow. This one, he lands perfectly on his left foot, which he leads into a flourishy spin of action for an ending. And, landing on his right knee with an arched back, Viktor throws his arms to the sky, mouth opened as he takes gulps in oxygen.

As the rush wears off, he is brought back to the world again. The crowd is no longer a fuzzy blur to his eyes, or a foggy, static sound in the distance. It comes in full force, loud with the screams and clapping. A smile spreads across Viktor’s face as he rises to his feet and gives a small bow, and without hesitation, he goes off to meet a smiling Yakov.

Cameras flash on them as the two walk over to the side, but it doesn’t bother either of them. Reporters get short, quick answers and nods as they wait in anticipation for the score. It only takes a few moment for it to be displayed.

102.3

It puts Viktor in second place.

A burst of joy floods Viktor. He thinks nothing of it, mind immediately going to tell him that it’s his own happiness at his performance, even though he doesn’t feel so accomplished that he’d be feeling this way. But, in the flurry of action, he doesn’t consider that it could be anything but his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poprosi menya - Ask me  
> Ogon’ki privychnyye gasnut i konchayutsya - The usual lights die away and come to an end  
> Tol'ko bezrazlichnyye fonari kachayutsya - Just indifferent lanterns swaying  
> Mysli postoronniye, lishniye, ne novyye - Strange ideas, not new
> 
> ummm i suck at writing skating!! figures trhyhre


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dabs* hello people
> 
> look at this i actually am updating somewhat regularly lmao
> 
> also i havent looked at this chapter since i wrote it like months ago so idk what it even is tbh

As soon as he can leave the rink, and Yakov’s side, Viktor goes back to his hotel room. Normally, he would go shopping or something - Viktor’s place back in Russia is filled with small little trinkets from all over the world, and his closet and drawers are littered with clothing from similar backgrounds - but this time, Viktor is looking for some rest.

As he sits on his bed quietly reading a small book, the last thing he expects to hear is his cell phone ring. When he sees just who's calling him, Viktor drops his book. This is not how he expected this day to go at all. He hadn't planned to be talking to his _mom._

Viktor picks up after two rings, shakily releasing his phone to his ear. “Allo,” he answers, voice steadier than he feels.

“Vitya, hello,” his mother says, voice awkward. Viktor doesn't blame her. He doesn't think they've actually talked at all in the past year, not even when Viktor had initially qualified for the Grand Prix (again). “How have you been doing?”

It hurts to hear her voice. It was his mother that had initially made him interested in skating, that had given him the push to get his first skating lessons. In all of Viktor's earliest memories, she is there helping him along. And now what? He's practically ignored her since he moved out a little more than a year ago, pushed her away because of the very thing that really brought them together. Quite frankly, he feels like an ass.

“Um, good,” Viktor replies after a few silent moments. What's he supposed to say? “I’ve been doing well. A bit tired, worn out and all, but… good. I’m good.” How does he tell her that he's being eaten up inside when they haven't talked in so long? He longs to confide in her, but it doesn't feel right. Not right now. “How about you? Have you been doing well too?”

“About as well as I can be,” she says. Viktor isn't sure if his mother is saying it in response to the absence of his presence or not, but that's how he takes it. It causes a sharp pain to strike him. “I see you’re doing good, though. I watched you out there today.”

“Mom, I’m so sor-”

“You get better every day, I swear,” she continues, speaking over him. “Every time you’re on TV, I can't help but watch. One these days, I hope to see you live again. That's- that's my dream.”

Viktor pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. He knew it was only a matter of time before this caught up to him. He could only push family away for so long.

“I'm sorry,” he says again, after his mother has been silent for a few moments.

“Oh, there's no need for that dear,” his mom says. But there is. Viktor knows there is. “You've been so busy, really. It's a wonder to me how you manage to find time for sleep and all that. You've always been so busy.”

_Always._ No. “I have no excuse, mom. G-d, the off seasons even. I couldn't even think to call you then, or visit you then,” Viktor says, voice cracking. “I couldn't even call you. I should've tried. I'm so sorry.”

“Vitya, I… sometimes life just gets ahead of us is all.” It breaks his heart the way that she continues on as if nothing is wrong. 

A deep pit seems to open inside of Viktor. He'd been so close to his mom growing up and this happened. He can already feel the way that this will eat at him. What if this continues to be a trend? Yeah, Viktor can keep up with Makkachin, but he's a dog, not a human. What if this happens with his soulmate? Is he even worthy of a soulmate if he can't even keep up with his mom?

“There's no excuse,” Viktor mumbles, throwing himself down on his back.

A sigh comes from the other end of the phone. “Why not just… put this all behind us for now?” his mom suggests, voice yet to hold the slightest hint of annoyance or frustration. How can she not be upset with him? “Why not you tell me about what's been going on with you recently. I had to stop at the Europeans this year.”

Fine. His mom obviously doesn't want to talk about it, even though he continues to bite at Viktor's conscience.

“Uh, yeah, I feel like I prefer to just practice after this passes by,” he says softly, throwing his free hand over his forehead. “Last year I didn't do too hot, but I'm hoping to start practicing some new jumps bring to competitions later this year.”

“Always one to wow the judges,” his mom laughs. “The day that you stop being able to surprise people will be the day you retire, I swear. You live off of the attention.”

Viktor _does_ have a small thing for keeping people on their toes. He's always been an extravagant person looking for the spotlight, and skating really just nurtured this aspect of him. “Well, that I just have to make sure I never run out of surprises,” he tells her, mind already running to the things he can add. Maybe one day you'll be able to add a quad Lutz to a performance. He's never landed one - this may have something to do with how he's only attempted the jump just six times - but with enough practice, he’s sure he can do be first person to ever use one in their competition as long as nobody gets into that title.

“You of all people can pull that off.” Viktor swears he can hear a fond smile in her voice.

“Well, we'll just have to wait and see. I am twenty after all. Soon enough, I'll run out of body to give them.”

“Hopefully no time soon,” she says. “Now tell me, Vitya, do you have anybody in your life right now? A girl? A boy?”

Uh… no. “Does Makkachin count…?” Viktor asks slowly. He really doesn't have anybody in his life beyond his dog and coach.

“Oh you and that dog!” Viktor doesn't have it in himself to feel anything but a funny sort of humour from her outburst. “I shouldn't say that though,” she mumbles, almost herself. “At least you have one person - or, dog - looking out for you.”

“Hah, yeah,” Viktor says. At least he has somebody. “Well somebody has to, and he's only one who really seems to be able to handle my absence.”

The silence stretches out between them, awkward but still comfortable in a way. It's his mom who breaks it.

“Do you have a soulmate?”

The question catches Viktor off guard. He is tempted to lie to her so she doesn't ask if he started looking for them yet, but finds himself unable to say no. “Uh, yeah,” he says.

“When do you think you'll look for them?” It's not what Viktor expects. His mom knows him better than he thought.

“Once I'm at the top,” Viktor tells his mom. He wants to give his soulmate all that he has to give. “I’ll look for them once I'm at the top.”

“Of course, dear,” she says, amused. “I wouldn't expect anything different from you.”

Not even Viktor can deny his ambition. It's what makes him Viktor Nikiforov, always pushing and pushing to make it. There's no doubt that he'll make it where he wants to. Arguably, he's at the top now and has been since he was 16, but he knows he can do better and give better.

“Well, I suppose I should let you go,” his mom says with a sigh. “I don't want to keep you for too long with the free skate coming up tomorrow.”

“Ah, okay,” Viktor says softly, sad to end the conversation so soon.

“Try and keep in touch, Vitya. I love you.” 

“I love you too, mom.” With a small click, the call ends.

The free skate is tomorrow. His mom will be watching. A new sense of determination courses through Viktor. Now he’ll has to skate for both soulmate _and_ his mom.

He'll make her proud.

 

When it’s time for the free skate, Viktor is noticeably more sober than before. He doesn't give Yakov any smiles or comments when he walks in, eyes daring to feel heavy with a faux-fatigue. It’s almost as if a different Viktor is walking around.

Viktor can feel his coach’s eyes on him as he stands at the edge of the ice. When Yakov walks over, he tenses, expecting some sort of lecture on being distracted. “Are you okay, Viktor?” Yakov asks softly.

Oh. Viktor turns to look Ykov in the eye and sees thinly veiled worry in his eyes. _Oh._ It really is easy for Viktor to forget about Yakov’s concern beyond the ice.

“Yeah, yeah, I am doing well,” Viktor says, mustering up a small smile.

“What happened?” Of course Yakov would know something happened. It doesn’t surprise Viktor. Yakov’s been his coach for years now; you don’t know somebody so intimately for that long without knowing when something is wrong.

That also means that Yakov won’t accept ‘nothing’ as an answer.

Does he tell the truth? Viktor sees nothing that could be gained in lying. “My mother called last night is all,” Viktor murmurs, eyes flickering down. “Just… I wasn’t expecting it is all.”

“How long has it been since you two last talked?” Yakov asks. This, Viktor is surprised with. He expected Yakov to brush it off as family matters, as personal matters, but instead, he guessed what the issue was with dead on accuracy.

“More than a year,” Viktor say. She called to congratulate me and tell me good luck.”

“Then work hard for her, kid.”

Viktor nods his head. He will.

While yesterday’s short program was set to a more upbeat song, this one is more subdued, a lyricless, soothing sound of a symphonic orchestra. In Viktor’s opinion, longer programs like those done in free skates are easier to pull through when the mind is calm. If he can lost himself in the keys of the piano and sounds of violins and cellos, he can keep himself afloat on the ice.

The beginning few notes start a blur in his mind, wiping everything away as Viktor moves in time with the music. His thoughts fade and all emotions mix into an incomprehensible blend. His very memories evade him as the world slips away from him. All there is is the movement of his body, sliding and gliding across the ice. It’s a dance of life. Nothing matters beyond keeping himself alive.

 

Viktor takes first place with a final score of 293.3.

As he stands at the top of the podium, flowers in his hand and a gold medal around his neck, a surge of flashes from cameras drown him. Through the blinding light, he sees Yakov standing to the side, smiling. It feels good to know he’s responsible for the pride alight in his eyes.

It only takes a few more minutes before Viktor can split away from everybody else and meet up with Yakov in a mostly empty hallway, away from the eyes of spectators. He doesn't hesitate to hug his coach tight.

“And what’s this for?”

Of course Yakov can’t just accept a hug. It makes a small file flow across Viktor’s face.

“Thank you,” Viktor says, letting go of Yakov and stepping back. “Thank you for helping me and being my coach.”

Yakov roll his eyes, crossing his arms. “No problem kid,” he says in return. Viktor can see a small glint of amusement in Yakov’s eyes, something that no stance of his can hide. “I still thank that you should-”

“Don’t say anything about my not going to the Grand Prix this year,” Viktor groans, smile slipping away from him. “I already gave you my reasons for not going, an-”

“-actually listen to the things that I say.” Yakov gives Viktor a look that should go along with a shit eating grin, if he were about giving those to his students. “You can do even better if you listened to your coach. I’m not payed to just sit around and let you do your thing, you know. Despite popular belief, I know what I’m talking about and am trying to help you, and-”

Viktor breaks him off with a loud laugh. It makes him feel good to know that Yakov wasn't about to harp on him about the Grand Prix again. His coach had made a move to shift them back into their normal banter, closing a small rift between the two. This was Yakov’s way of bending the small break, of putting things back to normal.

For the first time in a long time, thing almost felt normal again, like it could all turn out okay.

It made it easy to not notice the small tug of pride and awe that sitting quietly in the back of his mind, foreign, yet so easily accepted by now that it was able to slip by unnoticed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, rushing along to try and Further That Damn Plot while still providing That Back Story,,,,,
> 
> riprip but were' finally getting places okay folks i promise

The end of the Europeans marks the end of Viktor’s season as he pushes away the Worlds to regroup himself. He takes advantage of the free time he opened up by taking his own sort of small break. The end of Janurary looms ahead, only two days away, giving him ample time to take a few days, or even weeks if Yakov allows it, for himself. He doesn’t quite know the last time that he’s truly had this sort of time to throw away. So he decides to travel a little.

While Viktor loves St. Petersburg more than enough to call it home, his heart is, and always will be, in love with where he came from: Samara. While beautiful in the day, the way that the city lights up at night is something that can't be compared to anything else. The soft lights from buildings and streets illuminating the familiar layout of the city for Viktor will always steal his heart away. And with the added incentive of that being where his mom lives, it takes nothing for Viktor to choose just where he is going to spend his small reprieve.

It’s s trip that Viktor needs. It’s something he feels is vital. To connect again with his past and family… he has a firm resolve.

For the first time in years, Viktor takes a small break from skating under Yakov’s eye and heads out. For the first time in more than a year, the twenty year old Viktor goes to see his mom.

 

Time flies, Viktor finds. Before he knows it, he’s face to face with another season of skating. Despite not competing the year before, Viktor doesn’t need to do anything big to get himself back into the Grand prix race - his win in the Europeans last year confirmed his spot pretty clearly. And this time, he’s ready to rush headfirst into the competitions.

The Trophée Éric Bompard gives Viktor a silver, and a gold comes from the Cup of Russia. There’s no questioning his spot in the Final that’s to be held in Beijing in the first few days of December.

He works his hardest, skates his best. As he flies across the ice, Viktor thinks about his time with his mom. He feels good, invincible, during his short program and free skate.

Yet, despite the freedom he feels on the ice, despite all his effort - he doesn’t fall once, lands all of his jump near flawlessly - Viktor finds himself sitting in second place, 0.5 points behind the Spanish gold medalist who, at turning 22 three weeks before, is only a little more than one year older than Viktor. Unlike last time’s failure to get gold, however, this doesn’t crush Viktor. If anything, it makes him even more determined to do better. All he needed to win was 0.51 more points than he had gotten. But he knows he can go much further than getting 0.51 more points next year than what he earned this year.

 

“Again.”

Yakov looks at Viktor like he’s crazy.

“Again,” Viktor repeats, this time more firmly as he looks over to Yakov, edges of his vision blurry as he tries to catch his breath. “Please. Again.”

“You’ll risk hurting yourself if you do it again,” Yakov warns.

“I don’t care. Again.”

It’s two weeks before he has to go to America for his first competition in this series, and this time, he’s going to do it all correctly. Nothing but an awe inspiring performance can come from him this time around.

Yakov starts the music again, and Viktor smiles. Good.

Pushing himself to his limit isn’t an issue. Viktor knows well when to stop, when he can’t physically go on any further; he’s no stranger to finding himself on the brink of collapsing. He’s still young, twenty-one, and so he’s willing to do this sort of thing. He'll stop himself before it becomes too much to handle.

This year, Viktor moved completely away from slower songs. This season is meant to be a rebirth where Viktor blooms back into winning on world levels, and he’s going to rise to that with something that signifies such rejuvenation. His own choreography is in line with the theme, nothing about the way he moves slow.

However, the fast-paced nature of his programs make it a bit more difficult to keep his stamina up throughout them. So Viktor practices. He practices when he’s awake, full of energy, and he practices when he’s exhausted, drained and ready to quit,

Nothing will stand in his way. _Nothing._

 

When Viktor leaves America, it’s with a gold medal to add to his collection. It’d be a lie if he were to say he wasn’t feeling a bit smug at the outcome, having won by a solid six points. The only person who may be happier than he is is Yakov, who’s faithfully stood by Viktor’s side for longer than he’d had to in these last two months, coaching Viktor though the creation of his choreography.

Less than two weeks later, he’s leaving Japan will similar results, his name ready to be plastered as the winner in the series.

The crowd loves Viktor, has always loved him. They seem enthralled by him, eyes tracking his every movement on the ice, not able to look away. In both America and Japan, they clapped to his music, were pushed into silence in appropriate moments and would always burst into loud, roaring applause at his finishes. Despite how far away from Russia he was, he was coaxed into feeling like he was still on the ice in St. Petersburg, surrounded by his fellow Russians, by his fans.

He can feel nothing but pride while there. Pride and happiness. Joy. Viktor wouldn’t give the feeling up for anything.

Before he even has the chance to turn twenty-three, Viktor is put on stage in Beijing. With an applauding crowd behind him, he pulls into first place with a score of 273.92.

It’s the [re]start of Viktor’s ruling of the ice.

Effortlessly, he moves on to Worlds, and with the same flare and personality as given in the Grand prix - and the Europeans before - he’s adorned with another winning title.

There’s no way that even he can deny his sitting on top of the skating world.

 

Another year runs by. Another gold in all four of his major events, piling in with his eight national titles from Russia. At twenty-four, Viktor has two consecutive wins in the two different world wide competitions - the Grand prix Final and World Championships - and three tacked onto his Europeans.

Viktor worries it may get boring soon. While he knows he will only have so many years left before he can’t be competitive in figure skating anymore, before he and his name start to dwindle away, he doesn’t see it happening anytime real soon. He know he still has come years to kick out of himself, and he’s scared that, before he’s unable to compete anymore, he’ll get bored, uninspired.

Thankfully, he does have some who still pose a small challenge to him. People like Christophe Giacometti who, while don’t generally make him too scared of his title being put on line, do keep him on his toes, present him with small, much needed challenges. They keep him alive, essentially.

There’s also the sickening feelings he gets in his stomach when he so much as thinks about quitting when on the ice. He can’t handle the thought for too long before he’s overcome with a sort of sadness. He realizes that, oddly enough, he somehow manages to already miss the life without having even left it yet. It’s odd, really, but the longing that it makes him feel reassures him. It reminds him that this is the right path for him, that he’s doing good. This is his ground, his territory, and he’s not about ready to give it up yet.

 

It’s two mornings after Viktor added one more gold to his collection - from the Europeans the event having practically been placed back to back with the Grand Prix, having been held in January right after the series had come to a close - and Viktor is practicing when Yakov says anything. He’s pulled to the side, everybody around him on the ice continuing about their business. It’s not unusual, for a coach to be taking their pupil away to talk, after all.

“You do remember that you’re lined up in the Olympics, right?” Yakov asks before Viktor can even say anything in greeting.

All Viktor can do is give his coach a blank look as his mind races to catch up with everything. He doesn’t _not_ know about it of course. He qualified the moment he took a step on the podium at last year's Worlds, and Russia wasn’t about to say no to letting their best skater represent them in the Olympics. And yes, to be fair, Yakov had told Viktor about this often, but as other competitions piled one on top of another, Viktor managed to let the rather important information slip from his mind, even with the constant reminders of it being held this year every three seconds someone has a TV or radio on.

“I’m going to take that as a no,” Yakov grumbles, sighing. “If you weren’t you, I’d be more worried.”

Viktor grins largely at Yakov. “What’ that supposed to mean?” he asks, leaning over the short wall separating the two. “You think I’m that good?”

“It means I know that you wouldn’t give a shit either way, and whether or not you had more advanced notice, you wouldn't have done anything I’d suggest to prepare,” Yakov says. “You never listen to me anyways. Why would the Olympics change anything? You’re nothing but a cocky brat who thinks he can do anything.”

Viktor brings a hand up to his chest in faux-offense. “Wow, Yakov, I am hurt,” he grasps, drawing away from him.

But then he gets a little more serious. He had forgotten about this after all, and it is a big event. It’s Viktor’s job to get on top of his. “When are the men’s singles going to be held?” he asks Yakov.

“February thirteenth and fourteenth.”

February fourteenth. “That’s Valentine’s Day,” Viktor murmurs, mind spinning with ideas.

“Hope you don't have some big date planned,” Yakov says in confirmation.

No, Viktor doesn’t. And he doesn’t want one.

Valentine’s Day at the Olympics. There’s no better day for doing something incredibly stupid on the ice. “Yakov, would you kill me if I asked to have a new a free skate program especially geared for this?” Viktor asks. “I know it’s only two weeks away, but surely something can be done. After all, how perfect would it be for me to skate to love on the day of love?”

Yakov smiles big at this. “I can get you a short program too,” he says, nodding his head.

“Good, good,” Viktor sighs. “And I need new outfits. Something more… revealing for the second day. I want to seduce the audience with my free skate. It will be Valentine’s Day after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways if you have read this far ily and wish you happiness ok


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what i should be doing: my english project due tomorrow (no late work accepted) and drawing something for a club i'm in
> 
> what i am actually doing: writing this bullshit
> 
> what this is: a sort of filler chapter if i recall properly but who know what i'm writing anymore. it sure as hell ain't me.
> 
> what you should do: read this *dabs*

The days roll by slower than normal for Viktor. Maybe it’s anticipation for what his free skate outfit will be - or hell, even his short program - or maybe it’s from the long hours of thinking that he’s forced into as he tries to choreograph something just for Valentine's Day to a song that he hasn’t even picked out yet. He’s more than grateful that Yakov agreed to take care of the short program; usually Viktor would argue against such things, but even he knows that, at a time like this, he can’t afford to overwork himself by putting too much under his belt.

Yakov said that he’s putting together something with an excerpt from the third movement of Moonlight Sonata. Viktor, on the other hand, still is at a loss for what he’s doing. While a few song ideas have been thrown around, it’s more difficult than normal to actually find one that fits.

There’s more on the line this time. At least for Viktor, there is. This competition is more than just the Olympics, he thinks. Well, in a way. It’s a mix of the fact that this is the Olympics, and just what he’s planning on doing. 

Viktor Nikiforov. Over the years, he’s made himself Russia’s top male skater, and in many others’ minds, the top male skater in the world. He’s the king. The name he wanted to give himself all those years ago, the name so many people gave him, is truly his. And now, on Valentine’s Day, he’s going to reveal his soulmark to the entire world. He can’t afford to suddenly fuck this up.

He can’t afford to take much longer on picking a damn song, either.

 

By the end of the day, Viktor is forced to choose something. It’s a bit of a wildcard song, nothing originally planned or thought of, but it's still fitting, he thinks. He’s going to make this upcoming day his.

Yakov is more than thrilled when Viktor says that he’s made up his mind on what song he’s going to use, and that he's going to try an put together the skeleton of a program by the time he arrives again tomorrow. Yakov himself is sure that his own dance will be fully complete for tomorrow.

 

The Olympics approach faster than expected once Viktor isn’t spending long days trying to pick out some damn music. However, this means that time is completely against him.

Before he knows it, it’s three days before the men’s short program is scheduled. Viktor is in a panic, still not fully confident in his ability to perform his programs. It’s not a difficulty thing, but a memorization issue. He’s worried that three days isn’t enough for him to solidly have the two programs down by heart. Yakov doesn’t seem to be as worried, but it’s still eating at Viktor. He needs to make this perfect.

Through all the worry is a calming. Viktor has half a heart to make an attempt to bite back at what he knows is his soulmate trying to comfort him. Viktor doesn’t want comfort, he wants the worry. Without the worry, he fears he may lose his motivation and drive for practise.

And he does practise. Endlessly at the rink, even when Yakov isn’t around. He strains himself further than he has in years, risking his health. He knows he shouldn't do it, knows that this close to a competition he can't afford to miss a jump due to exhaustion and injure himself because he can’t even hold himself up. But he risks it anyways,

There's little fuss made about moving the Russian skate team out to Sochi, those who train in Russia - under Yakov or not. They keep themselves as under the radar as possible, however competing in their home country makes things a bit more difficult in this name. Reporters want to be everywhere with them, following them up until they no longer can - which is at their flight gate.

A quick thing is made of leaving the airport.

Yakov and Viktor eventually split off from the rest of the company once they reach the hotel, Yakov pulling him off to the side.

“Viktor, I want you to get sleep tonight, but be ready to meet me down here at ten. I have a rink reserved for us to put some finishing touches on all of our programs, and thankfully we don’t have to worry about audiences,” Yakov tells him quietly.

Viktor nods. Good. There are times - generally when it comes to the initial race in a Grand prix series where such short notices are given with who is going where - that Yakov isn’t able to get rinks reserved for practice around competitions like this. Granted, the places holding said competitions generally offer up their own spaces, but in times like this, where Viktor and two other skaters are preparing to show something new, it’s nice to be able to skate away from other people’s eyes. It helps with the shock factor. “Sounds good,” Viktor says, holding his room key firmly in hand as he looks at Yakov.

“Well, even if it didn’t sound good, you’d still be doing it,” Yakov grumbles. “Now, head off to bed. You need to be well rested. That sleeping you did on the place earlier was lame and not nearly enough to what you need. It was too restless.” Yakov’s nose scrunches as he looks at the ceiling briefly. “I would know considering you felt it appropriate to use me as a pillow,” he adds to himself, though Viktor still hears it and smiles.

“Yes, goodnight Yakov,” Viktor says, waving as the two start walking away from each other to take separate elevators.

“Sleep well, Viktor.”

The elevator is quiet as Viktor takes it up to his second to the top floor where his room is. Not even music is playing to create background noise as he rises further ad further off the ground.

On the 14th, Viktor will be revealing his mark to the world. Even if his soulmate isn’t watching, they’re sure to see about it. People don’t just suddenly reveal their soulmarks like this on national television, especially not athletes (and definitely not Olympic qualifying athletes). The news will love him for this. They’ll spread the images taken of Viktor, letting his mark travel far and wide.

Viktor is both excited and nervous for the outcome of which is either going to turn out to be an incredibly stupid move, or one of the best ideas he has ever had..

 

February 13th comes faster than Viktor wishes. When he wakes up the morning of, his mind is already fuzzy with a wild sort of anticipation. He’s unable to stay in bed for long with the way nervous energy is running through his every nerve.

Viktor showers quick, not about ready to waste any time on messing around. After he gets out, he does a half-assed job of drying off, just well enough so that he can pull on some loose clothes and push his hair down flat without his it dripping down his back. Before leaving his room, he puts on his jacket that will scream to the entire world that he’s on Russia’s skate teams and grabs the duffle bag by the end of his bed, the blade guards making small thumps as they hit each other. Yakov was kind enough to say that he’d bring Viktor’s outfit, though Viktor is sure that it’s only because his coach didn’t want him managing to forget it in his room, or, even worse, ruin it somehow.

In no time, Viktor is out of his room, bag over shoulder, and riding the elevator down to the lobby floor. A young woman who looks half asleep is sharing the small compartment with him, but she doesn’t attempt any sort of small talk with Viktor. For once, he’s thankful for the silence. He feels that, if he tried to talk, he’d either end up oversharing, spilling more information than asked for, or end up completely embarrassing himself by stumbling over most to all his words as this nerves consumed him. He needs this silence to calm himself down.

With a small ding, the elevator doors open. Viktor quickly gets off and heads straight for the lobby where Yakov is awaiting patiently with a few others around him, including a young blond boy - Yuri if Viktor remembers correctly. While not everybody who came along for this journey is competing, they were all more than willing to tag along with Yakov and his small crew.

The blond boy looks up at Viktor with hard eyes. Viktor returns the gaze, and can’t help but notice the way that, despite how the kid can’t be any older than thirteen, his eyes hold a ferocity, a hard determination that Viktor is more than familiar with.

However, as Viktor’s eyes travel further up, he loses that thought in favour of looking at this kid’s hair. Viktor thinks it may be styled into some sort of weird sort of bowl cut. Whatever it is, Viktor wouldn't be caught dead with that thing on his head. The kid will have to change that eventually. Even Christophe's earlier years weren’t graced with this bad of hair. Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever seen something quite so… juvenile on a skater before.

“Viktor, are you ready to go?” Yakov asks, forcing Viktor’s attention off of the young boy.

“Yeah, I’m all good to go,” Viktor replies. At least he think she is.

“Good. Then once Milla comes down, we’ll leave.”

They sit for another five minutes in the large lobby before Milla arrives, and Yakov immediately goes to work, efficiently arranging transportation. The entire time, Viktor can feel the kid’s eyes on him.

 

The warm up goes about as well a Viktor can hope. Nobody falls, and the energy between everybody doesn’t hold a hint of hostility. It manages to lower the edge off of him, but only a little. At the very least, he’s confident that he won’t mess up any jumps. After all, if he can land something in practice, he can land it while performing.

But it doesn’t completely fix Viktors anxiety. He can’t afford to do anything less than perfect here. It needs to be perfect.

As the first skater takes the ice, a slight man from France that Viktor recognizes from last year’s Worlds, butterflies erupt in his Viktor’s stomach. He feels sick.

He’s used to being nervous, but not like this. It’s never been this bad. He’s never had to skate against this feeling before. But then again, he’s never had this much on the line, either.

“Calm down, calm down,” Viktor mutters to himself, looking down at the ground as he feels his mind spinning. “You have this. You did it perfectly yesterday, you can do it just as perfectly today. You have this. You have this.” It becomes a mantra as he silently repeats it, trying to calm himself down.

He has this. He has to have it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what i should NOW BE DOING: ENGLiSH HOMEWORK IT'S DUE TOMRROW IT IS A LARgE PROJECT
> 
> what i am going to do: probably not that lmao
> 
> have fun bros,,,, have fun like i am, except actually do your work you know??? please don't be like me


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey hi
> 
> look at me updating fics huh wow
> 
> that.. never happens??

First France goes, scoring 89.23. A good start. The first performance wasn’t something that’d be talked about for too long, but it was nice. However, the technical elements incorporated into the program weren’t enough to break 90, even after everything was performed flawlessly. The program wasn’t made for risk taking, and that’s where Viktor thinks he did wrong. While nobody wants to fail at the Olympics, you still have to be willing to take risks.

After the French contestant, a twenty year old from Italy takes the ice in a dazzling soft green and white outfit. Opposite of his own pink and black, Viktor thinks.

Unlike the man from France's slow, languid pace, this one moves fast. Almost too fast, it seems. He’s trying too hard to fit too much into the short amount of time allotted for the program. And it shows when the he’s already exhausted a minute it. Suddenly, beautiful movements to music - the song is called Jubel is Viktor remembers correctly - turn sloppy. His footwork falls apart, and when he tries to get another quad in after two minutes have passed, he lands hard on the third rotation, tumbling to the ice. The only thing that really seems to save the guy is his immediate getting up to finish the program in a more smooth manner.

As the the contestant gets off the ice, Viktor’s hands start to sweat. Yakov stands to his side, clapping appropriately and does nothing to help calm Viktor. He wonder if his coach even notices his nerves.

He’s next.

Once Yakov is done clapping, he goes behind Viktor to grab the coat off of his shoulders. Viktor stretches his arms back, allowing the white and red jacket to slide off, revealing the top portion of his costume.

In the soft light overhead, Viktor shimmers; long, fluid stripes of glitter are brought to life across his body with even the slightest movement.

Love. It’s not necessarily a taboo topic, but what he’s planning on doing is very close to one. While he has another day to be nothing more than another skater in the eyes of the people, tomorrow he faces the risk of being pushed away as an outlier. To reveal and expose oneself in such a way as he’s going to, for all to see on public broadcasting where millions of people can be watching…. 

So he’ll blow his country away today, let Sochi light up with his name on their tongues in joy, wonder, and awe. The pride of the Russian figure skating team.

Again, Viktor wonders just how Yakov will take it.

He isn’t aware he’s zoning out until he head his name announced overhead, and Viktor is brought back to life. Now’s not the time to think of grand applause and grand shame, he thinks. Slowly, he takes the ice. No, it’s time to perform for the audience. Now, he performs for Yakov, for himself, and for all of Russia while they are still here to fully back him.

An excited sort of anticipation runs along every nerve in Viktor’s body as he reaches the middle of the ice. It feels like his breath is about to leave him, the words of the announcers buzzing out above him.

Shit. No. He can’t just zone out now. This is literally the worst time. Not at the fucking Olympics.

Calm down.

The first note hits. Viktor draws in a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. While the emotions don’t leave him completely, he managed to put them to the side as he starts to move.

When Viktor first learned to skate, his mind wa littered with “push out, and always fall back onto your butt”. Now, those are the furthest thoughts from his mind. Push back, hand to the side, arm in, spread your legs, spin, cross. Basic commands he doesn’t quite understand all the time. They rush through him. Instead of fall back, it’s don’t fall at all. One foot. Keep the left leg up.

Don’t fall.

You’re tired, yes, but that doesn’t matter. Keep going, keep yourself up. Don’t show that you’re tired, don’t show that you’re nervous. Don’t show any weakness. Don’t trip up on simple footwork. So many don’ts. Don’t turn quads into triples, and combos must stay as combos.

He’s skating for love, and he needs to pour his entire damn heart into it.

The ice is already rough, worn from both his own activity and the remnants of the two others before him. It tempts his blade to stray off into oblivion, but Viktor fights it, pushes himself away from the sharp tugs that they force on his feet.

The music surrounding him slows abruptly, and Viktor slows with it. Two feet together, go straight. Bring the right foot back, close your eyes. Serenity. Cross hands right below the chest, elbows sticking out minimally.

Viktor feels mentally breathless. Physically, he’s breathing okay - this is actually the point in the performance that grants him with a very small reprieve - yet he feel like his breath is taken away nonetheless.

He pushes it back.

Fall left, but turn right. Speed up, let your hands fall apart. Viktor opens his eyes again, lets his right blade hits the ice again. Move. Go forward.

The music speeds up slightly, as the ending approaches. A climax in both the music and his dance.

One last jump, a triple axle. Distantly, Viktor hears clapping as he lands it, some cheering a he loops around quick. He crosses his ankles slightly as he bends one arm around his head, hand covering his face, and his other works its way around his waist as he begins to spin.

Fast, faster, faster. He has to beat friction, make himself small as he bends in on himself to not lose momentum.

And the end is near. Viktor turns his right foot up, letting the front tip of the blade dig harshly into the ice, and just as the last note it hit, fading the song into silence, Viktor freezes on the ice, unmoving.

He’s breathing heavily as his arms drop to the side and he lifts his head to the crowd. The sound is incredible, and the bright flashes of lights from the various cameras is just short of blinding. But through it all, he keeps his head up, a smile stretching across his face. He’s sure it doesn’t show exactly how he feels - relieved, happy, accomplished, satisfies, exhausted - but it does it’s job in keeping up his image as the light hearted king of skating.

As Viktor moves off of the ice, everything seems to be in slow motion; his movements seem slow, the people around him seem slow as he makes his way to the small bench set aside for reporters. It’s only by the weight up Yakov's hand suddenly falling on his shoulder that even allows him to sit down.

There are a select few reporters there, and they all seem to be asking questions, but Viktor can’t process it all. Not yet. He smiles for them, yes, but can’t speak. 

It’s a bit of shock, Viktor thinks. Shock at not messing anything up considering how short of time he had to work on program. And, well, he did just perform in the Olympics. As in, like, _the Olympics_. And he did it without making a total fool of himself.

Of course, Viktor knew it was the Olympics before he started his performance, but there’s something different now that it’s finished. It’s more real now. All the people in the crowd, the idea of how many cameras were on him. How many people saw him. While sure, the Worlds and Grand Prix are all large events, they’re only large events for the figure skating world, it seems. Nobody really tunes into that sort of thing without knowing beforehand what it is. The Olympics on the other hand… everybody seems too watch the Olympics. This is worldwide on such a larger scale than he has ever done before.

And he had done well. Or, he hopes he did well.

After what Viktor thinks is an unnecessarily long time, his score is finally displayed. He can’t help the way his smile widens as he sees it.

103.68

His whole body seems to be alight in an uncontrollable joy, and it takes everything Viktor has to keep his poise. Slowly, he stands up.

And the voices really start to flood is, breaking through the barrier that his mind set up.

”Viktor, you are now in first place. What-”

“What do you have in sort for tomorrow?”

“Viktor!”

He knows he should answer them, but his mind is still running on the slow clock from before.

Yakov’s hand again brings him back to life.

“Uh, tomorrow… well, tomorrow is Valentine's Day, right?” Viktor asks, forcing the size of his smile too lower. How is he planning on finishing this? He’s not really thinking before speaking, not right now. He’ll just let it go where it goes.

“Yes, it is,” a girl off to the side says. “Do you have any plan for after the competition? Someone special that you’re taking out?”

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that,” Viktor says, shaking his head quickly. “No. I’ve been too busy training to really get myself into any relationships, sadly. For the Olympics, and just the general competitions I compete it. I find my love is just being on the ice and competing for the people. And, as tomorrow is Valentine's Day, the day of love, I suppose it’s only appropriate that i will be showing such love. I invite you all to again watch me perform in what I will be my best performance yet.”

It’s a good enough answer if Yakov’s reaffirming grip means something. It’s also not far from the truth. Or, well… now that Viktor thinks about it, it’s exactly the truth. He’s too consumed with making himself better to really do much else. The few months he’s granted breaks, he spends it with his dog, or just travelling to different places - again with Makka - and not really trying to socialize all that much. His friends are all centered around the ice.

But not for much longer, Viktor hopes. He flashes another smile for the cameras, his eye lighting up. Hopefully, he’ll soon have a third, human companion come along to go with him. Someone to love wholeheartedly and to love him back.

Someone to help him find home. Someone to call home.

Quickly, after a few more question are answered, Viktor walks to the seating to watch the remaining skaters in his section. He feels content as he looks down on the ice. Warm and content. His already bright future is looking like it may go even better than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to check me out on my tumblr @nathanchcn
> 
> drop by, say hello, ask me shit, i don't know. i'm but a lonely child tbh.
> 
> have an awesome day/night and a great week.
> 
> i actually have the act this coming tuesday and haven't actually thought to study at all so i mean lmao


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how my day has gone so far:
> 
> 600am - resignation that i didnt study for the act, but have to take it anyway
> 
> 650am - driving in a very cold car, suddenly awake, but still nervous
> 
> 730am - going back home to get a calculator because those are sort of important
> 
> 800am - test door is closed, n e r v o u s
> 
> 840am - test isn't so bad, i feel like i'm actually doing pretty well
> 
> 900am - math!! i love math!!! math portion is the only part that i'm really confident about
> 
> 9something - in the bathroom breaking down because i had a nosebleed in the middle of the math test, causing me to lose a shit ton of time that i can't get back because it's the act and they don't care
> 
> 1005am - panicking because i barely got the math portion all filled in and some of them were just educated guesses with no work to them because i was running out of time
> 
> 1010a - a much needed break where i want to just die
> 
> 1230pm - the test is done, i am thankful and just want to go home and cry

As soon as Viktor wakes up on Valentine's Day, his mind jumps to backing out of his plans. While there’s no denying that Viktor loves grand display of, well, anything, this is stretching it further than that “anything”. He’s reasonably worried, really.

When he’s out of the shower and getting dressed, it’s hard to not reach into the small pocket of his suitcase where he has a small bottle of concealer tucked away. It’s hard not to grab it and liberally apply it to his shoulder and just cover the mark again, like he’s been doing these past few weeks. To make today’s skate just another free skate (if the fact that this is at the Olympics is ignored).

But the thought almost feels like a betrayal. Viktor has spent this much time covering up his mark and hiding away, not doing _anything_ to find his soulmate. Now, he finally has an almost plan to try and look for them, and he’s chickening out? It just feels wrong. So he keeps the bottle in his suitcase, buried and out of site.

He’s committed to this. He can’t just step away now.

While yesterday’s short program had started relatively early in the morning, today’s free skate has been scheduled closer to the end of the day, giving Viktor plenty of time to do absolutely nothing. Normally, he’d go out and shop - businesses must love when he’s away for competitions - but not today. Not on Valentine’s Day.

So, he just stays in his room. At first, he finds it calming. While the room isn’t a luxurious suite, it does its job of providing Viktor with privacy and a place to reflect on things. What exactly he’s reflecting on, he really isn’t so sure, but it’s definitely something. He thinks. Maybe this “reflecting” is just letting himself sit back and feel things fully for once, instead of just pushing it all away.

He isn’t even quite sure what he’s feeling, though. While Viktor know there's still some lingering nerves (well, not lingering, or just some - rather, it’s a tsunami of nerves) and doubt, there is something… more. It’s faint, and distinctly his own. It sits low in his chest, yet somehow high in his heart, lurking in the backs of his mind.

“Ah, where’s Makkachin when you need him?” Viktor groans, rubbing his eyes. So maybe he doesn’t want to focus on his feelings after all. “I should have tried to bring him here or something.”

Looking for something to do, Viktor checks his phone. He was anticipating at least a few notifications, but when it comes up with nothing - not even a damn new alert - he’s quite sure that he is going to die before the afternoon starts.

Unless….

Viktor looks back at his bed and pillow. There's nothing saying he can’t sleep, as long as he has an alarm set.

As he makes his way to his bed, a strong wave of affection hits Viktor. Not even he can deny what it was, and who’s it’s from.

His soulmate.

Grinning, Viktor tries to send a matching feeling back their way. Whether or not his soulmate receives it, Viktor doesn’t know. What he does know is that he falls asleep a lot easier than usual this time.

 

It’s almost theatric the way that all the skaters and their coaches file onto the sides, all in one straight line as they filter into the large room holding the rink. Viktor swears that he can hear every step made in the tunnel-like walkway that leads from the changing areas. They echo through the air and his head.

In the twenty-five year that Viktor has been alive, he has never been nervous about Valentine's Day. Until now. And it’s not even because he finally has a date.

Viktor has the pleasure of going second to last today. As he watches the others go, one by one, Viktor feels his nerves eating away at him. He wishes that he had just put on the damn concealer this morning when he had thought about it. He wishes he had it on him now so that he could quickly sneak away to put some on and ditch the _fear_ he’s feeling right now.

Because Viktor is scared. He’s scared, worried, anxious. He feels at a loss for what to do. Already he’s regretting his actions, and he hasn’t even technically done anything yet.

Sochi Olympics of 2014. It feels like something Viktor will remember as the setting of some sort of sick demise. But at the same time, Viktor can almost feel the new future ready to be paved right in front of his eyes. Doom, yet rebirth. A new path, destroying the originally planned one.

All too soon, it’s Viktor’s turn. All too soon, knots begin to form in his stomach. It’s hard to breath as his fingers toy with his jacket’s zipper, unable to just pull it down. He knows he can’t take too long, can’t afford to run out of time just because he’s nervous, but that doesn't make the task any easier.

With his back to Yakov, Viktor finally yanks the zipper down and pushes the coat away, allowing his coach to take it.

“Good luck. Show the whole world just what you can do today. Make Russia proud to call you its own,” Yakov whispers, nudging Viktor to the ice.

His legs seem to almost resist all movement as he goes forward, knees wanting to lock at every chance. Viktor knows it’s all psychological, and this isn’t happening because of something physical problem. But knowing that doesn’t make the progression any easier.

Blood rushes through his ears. Viktor can hear every beat of his heart as he takes to the ice. Hell, he can _feel_ every beat. His blood seems to be moving sluggishly through him. The first onslaught of camera flashes fall on what Viktor is sure is nothing but a blank expressionless face. He can’t even seem to see straight, eyes refusing to focus on anything.

He expects the world to stop, or something along the lines of that. But it never does, and slowly he finds his way to the center. No magical force is out there to freeze time for even a moment.

Viktor wants nothing more than to quickly cover himself up. He’s been raised under the idea that soulmarks are private, something to be kept to one’s self and their soulmate. It’s been fed into him since birth. As such, he’s never actually had anybody see his, and now… now, thousands, maybe million, of people are seeing it now and will see it. This all seems too personal. He wants to crawl away into solitude and be alone for a few seconds. Or minutes. Hours. Day. He just want to hide.

If only that was an option.

Viktor tilts his head down. While his action is more to get his thoughts together and under control, it’s impossible for him to not look at himself.

It’s beautiful, really, the image that he makes. The outfit he’s wearing is all done out of varying blues and some black. There are so many different colours, yet none of them manage to perfectly match that of his soulmark. It’s both disappointing and satisfying, Viktor thinks. His mark doesn't blend in, but in not doing so, it also stands out as an individual feature of him.

The music starts, the sounds of drums being struck making his body move on instinct. He needs to clear his mind, and quick. This is the program that gave him the most trouble, and he knows he needs some sort of concentration to properly get through it. There’s no solid muscle memory to keep him alive if his mind totally blanks out this time.

Focus.

Focus.

The music and moving. That’s all that matters. He hand picked this song, and while that doesn’t exactly have the same impact of having a song made specifically for him, it’s still something. _He,_ Viktor Nikiforov, chose this song for himself. Nobody else touched this program beyond a few suggestions being thrown in. It’s all his, and he’s going to show that it is.

His first jump is a quadruple flip. “It’s all about-” jump “-us.” He works it in time with the music, easily hitting the mark right on. When he lands, his blade hits the ice heavily, but he remains steady and upright. It doesn’t stop him from swinging back, arms spread out as he briefly looks up to the top of the building, before tilting his head to the side so that he can see where he’s going.

The song itself allows Viktor to move in different ways than he normally would. Most of his programs are structured around fluidity, but this time, some wiggle room is allowed. This isn’t a Moonlight Sonata, some perfectly composed ballet. It’s a sloppy, confused, frustrated dance and declaration centered around a messy, confusing, disorganized concept: love. Really, a completely smooth performance wouldn’t properly convey the feeling.

His footwork is sharp, turns causing his blade to cut through the ice in a remarkable way. Viktor wants to feel guilty for it, knowing that, soon enough, his footwork will end up turning certain patches of the ice into hellish spots to be faced with for the last skater, but such is the way of this sport, he thinks.

“If they hurt you, they hurt me too.” There’s sharp feeling that runs around Viktor’s mind and body like electricity running through a wire, one that isn’t coming from him (which is really surprising considering how he’s still trying to push away the rest of his anxiety). A large, stupid grin falls across his face at the thought of his soulmate, though. It helps push him further, helps him to really kick out the rest of his dwindling nerves.

“So, we’ll rise up. Won’t stop.” Damn right Viktor won’t stop. He’ll never stop if that’s what it takes.

Another jump. This time a combo. A quad Sal, first. Again, he lands harder than absolutely necessary, but he uses the momentum of the landing to easily push himself into a triple toe loop.

The fast yet slow pace of this song gave the potential of a brutal program, and perhaps if Yakov had been the one to choreograph this, it would have been. But Viktor was thankfully able to make it his own, and in that, he made it something he can handle. He goes at his own speed, cutting his turns and footwork into graceful, intricate patterns. He can feel it all running through him, one sound at a time commanding his movements like strings on a puppet.

A lone triple axle ushers in the second half of the performance. There’s a brief respite for Viktor, where the music mellows. It allows him to try and slow his breathing, even just momentarily, and to organize himself as he finally falls back on more natural movements. He’s baring his body for the entire world as he moves backwards, spread out for all to see.

By now, all of Viktor’s initial anxiety has diminished. he’s already doing this; there’s no turning back. There’s no point in suddenly falling apart now. The damage is done. It’s calming, in a way. Sure, he still has to deal with the backlash, but that’s for later. Now is now, and so for now, he’ll let himself be free, even if it’s just for a short amount of time.

The tempo speeds back up, and Viktor is matching it within two seconds, moving his way into a quadruple flip. Yakov had warned against actually doing one here, especially this late in the program when Viktor is running low on stamina. The loop relies completely on strength, and even Viktor is questioning whether or not he has enough in him for this.

He goes for it anyways.

For the few seconds that he’s in the air spinning, hands drawn into himself, Viktor feels like he’s flying. All too soon, his feet hit the ice again, after what he thinks was enough rotations.

Again, Viktor’s put back to work with fast footwork. He can feel every time he accidentally hits one blade against another, almost tripping himself up. In his fatigue, it wouldn’t be hard for him to be sent crashing on something like that, but he keep going, keeps moving.

There’s only one last jump, one last quad, coming up. One last place for major mistake to be made.

Build speed, build momentum in time with the music.

One. Right foot back. Two. Turn around, look to the far end of the rinik. Three. Breath. Move his foot, tilt it forward.

Jump.

In the air, Viktor falters, causing him to fall short on rotations, turning what was meant to be a quadruple to-loop into a triple.

Damnit.

He doesn’t let the mistake push him down. Not when the end is this close.

Viktor falls down to one knee, lowering himself to the ice, letting his hand brush gently along the cold ground below him. Slowly, he raises himself again, turning himself up, rising again as it from a great fall. Nothing can keep him down, nothing can stop him from rising for what he cares for.

He ends back upright, standing proud and tall as the music fades away. 

The crowd is alight in applause, and Viktor finds himself surrounded by a rain of flowers being thrown to the ice. He feels free and alive as he does a few rotations on the ice to look up at everybody. He smiles for them all, happy. He got through that with only a minor slip-up.

He did it.

After picking up one of the smaller bouquets off of the ice, Viktor skates over to where Yakov is standing at the side. His face is unreadable. Silently, Viktor takes his blade guards from his coach, one by one putting them on as he steps off the ice. As the door close behind him, Viktor takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“You didn't tell me you were going to do that,” Yakov grumbles as the two make their way over to the chairs set up for waiting for scores. He looks directly at Viktor’s soulmark before looking ahead again, as if making some kind of point.

“No, I didn’t,” Vikor responds, not sure what else there is to say.

The two of the sit down side by side, neither looking at the other.

“And you’re aware of what this may create for you?” Yakov asks with a sigh.

“Yes,” Viktor says, looking down at his feet. He had expected Yakov to blow up at him, or at least give him a long lecture. But then again, there’s still time for that later, away from cameras.

“I suppose this explains few things,” Yakov says, more to himself than to Viktor. “You could have told me, you know. I could have helped you. I’m likely going to be looked at for this as well, of course. At least then I could have said that I had a part in the revealing of the heart throb of figure skating’s soulmark.””

“You would have tried to stop me,” Viktor points out. “And I think that if I had you trying to stop me from doing this along with my own reservations, in the end, I would have stopped myself from doing this.”

“You actually doing what I say? Now that’s something that I’d pay to see,” Yakov says, rolling his eyes. “Like how you tried for a quadruple flip right where I told you not to do one.”

The conversation is cut short at the announcing of Viktor’s score. 186.23. With both his short program and his free skate scores combined, he has a total of 289.91. It’s a good distance away from his own personal best, but it puts him in first place, and can keep him in first place if the final skater does not surpass it.

“Impressive considering you’re slip up with the final quad you had planned,” Yakov says, though he looks more satisfied than he sounds. “Now, put a damn coat on. You don’t need any more unnecessary pictures of you floating around than I’m sure already are.

Yakov holds out Viktor’s jacket for him. Viktor quickly grabs it and puts it on. “Thank you,” he says quietly, zipping up the coat.

When he stands, Viktor braces himself. The reporters, he’s sure, will be a bit more like gremlins today than normal.

 

Viktor somehow manages to make it out in first place. The medal feels different than his others, he thinks. It’s an Olympic medal this time, not a World or Four Continents or Europeans. An Olympic gold. And as he stands on the podium, smiling large and happy, he wonders what his own soulmate does. Do they have any gold medals for anything? Or maybe silver, or bronze. Even a trophy, or something. 

What do they do? What have they accomplished? He’s curious, really, more than anything.

What he doesn’t think about is the tight feeling of dread and panic mixed with an odd sort of giddiness than brushes alongside Viktor’s own elation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hope this was better than my test was lmao can't wait to get my scores back and see just how (awful) i did
> 
> t_t
> 
> like what kind of bad luck,,, middle of the act my nose decides THEN to bleed like
> 
> a whole new level of extra tbh
> 
> (also i forgot to add this uh the music is All About Us by t.A.T.u because i'm Extra^TM and had to usr something by them for this seeing as how they performed at the olympics and ALMOST got back together at because of it t.t)
> 
> DISCLAIMER: viktor would NOT compete im the 4Cs!! that's my DISCLAIMER


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 90% sure this is my longest chapter so far and it's also a filler chapter ripripripriprip

While Viktor has left Russia more times than he can remember for competitions, he’s never spent any significant time in such areas, As such, it’s difficult for him to remember just how differently other places work in ideology. Or, in this case, it’s difficult for him to remember how different places view soulmarks. All of his foreign acquaintances never made it a habit of displaying and talking about their soulmarks around him - whether just because the topic never came up or because they were just being polite, Viktor doesn’t know - which made it easy for him to live his life looking at people and just assuming they held the same values about the topic as he was raised on.

However, as soon ashe sees the first article written about just how well his eyes match with his soulmark, and how he should have incorporated it into his performances much earlier - which is then followed with a small blurb on just how “restrictive” Russia is with soulmarks - Viktor is thrust into the reality that the only people who will really care about what he did with be other Russians and the select few others that share such conservative view in regard to soulmarks. It really helps make him feel like a grade A dingus for just how damn worried he had been before the competition.

And it also explains why Yakov isn’t currently at Viktor’s throat right now.

Huh.

So maybe Viktor is a bit more oblivious than he thought. And maybe that means that all the times that Chris has commented on his being totally unaware of other people and how they work in different ways than he’s used to, he wasn’t trying to be a total jackass, but because Viktor really does seem to live in his own little bubble of a world.

Well shit.

“Ah, Makkachin, what do you do when you realize that you’ve been a total idiot?” Viktor groans, looking down at where Makkachin is laying at his feet.

“I mean, yeah, I’m definitely happy that I’m not going to be shunned world-wide. Though some of the Russians do seem to think I should be….Agh! I’m at a loss for what to do, Makka!”

Makkachin just blinks before resting his head back down on the floor.

“I don’t regret what I did, you know, but I also never thought about the afterwards beyond ‘oh shit, everybody is going to hate me’ or things along those lines. And so now what? Nobody seems to really hate me, everybody knows what my soulmark looks like, and over in America, I’m sure Fox News is trying to spin some sort of story about how I’ve become a total social outlaw of Russia who deserves some Western saving or something, but I don’t need that, you know. I just need some guidance. Nobody ever taught me how to deal with this sort of thing. And apparently, it’ not too huge of a deal, either.

“Damn it! Skating that stupid program felt like I was opening up a new chapter in my life. Now that I’m seeing that new chapter, it feels incredibly boring. So now I have an Olympic gold medal to place with my Worlds. Now what? I feel wrong just returning to life acting all normal and like nothing happened. I acted like a hopeless, desperate fool out there on the ice. And, I mean, I am desperate, Makka. How sad is that? I’m Viktor Nikiforov, I shouldn’t be sad and lonely while sitting here. I have you, you know. And friends. I have a lot of friends, a lot of medals, a gold from the Olympics….

“I’m just rambling. No real person to speak to - no offense Makka - and I just…” Viktor goes silent.

He really is at a loss for what to do. And he _is_ lonely. Lonelier than he thinks he’s ever been.

Loneliness isn’t something Viktor normally feels. Sometimes, when he’s away from home, he’ll miss Makkachin, but that’s about the extent of it. Or rather, it was the extent of it. More and more he finds himself sitting down, not even necessarily along, and just longing for more. It’s such a foreign feeling, though, and he’s having troubles processing it.

Sure, Viktor can go to a rink and try and push that sort of thing away by skating, but that’s all temporary. Despite popular believe, he can't live on the ice. No matter how much even he wishes it were possible, he can’t.

Viktor reaches his hand down to pet the soft fur on Makkachin’s head. “What do you think i should do, Makka?” he asks with a smile. “I bet you're content with life as it is right now. You getting to sit about lazily while I pet you. Seems like a good life.”

Makkachin tilts his head to the side as Viktor’s fingers move behind his ears, scratching gently.

“What would you do if I found my soulmate, huh?” Viktor asks. “Twice the people to pay attention to you, twice the people to play with you. I bet it’d be twice the petting, too.” Too bad that’d require actually finding his soulmate.

Viktor thought soulmates were supposed to make a person happy, but this whole ordeal seems to only be succeeding in making Viktor feel incredibly down.

 

“Well, now that you’ve gone off and exposed yourself to the world, I expect that you will be willing to wear a wider range of clothing.”

Of course Yakov will be all work and no fun. Viktor nods his head in affirmation. “Might as well. There's no real use in only wearing things that cover my mark anymore,” Viktor says.

“Now that makes my life easier. Finally, one of your ridiculous ideas is actually paying off,” Yakov says, smiling a little at Viktor. Or, who knows, maybe that’s a lot for Yakov’s standards.

“Oh, uh, I think you should maybe even look into having things made specifically with it in mind,” Viktor suggests as he shoves a foot into his skate. “In between the articles talking about how beautiful my mark looks next to my eyes, there were people applauding just how nice it looks when next to all of the blue I had been wearing.” Because _that’s_ what Viktor had been going for, of course. Colour coordination. He really isn’t sure which news pieces he prefers. The ones blindly talking about his “beautiful” mark, or the ones that are saying how miserable he must be now that the entirety of Russia is turning against him.

Viktor ignores how that idea parallels his own previous anxiety filled thoughts on the topic, and instead pulls on his other skate.

Yakov grunts, but doesn’t continue on with it.

“Worlds are coming up,” Yakov sys. “End of the March. You took gold at the Olympics, so this shouldn’t be all too difficult for you if you keep on top of things.”

Every competitions is difficult, Viktor thinks, but he knows what Yakov is saying. As long as he gives it his all like he normally does, he should be able to easily place.

“What programs would you say I do?” Viktor asks, yanking on his laces as he works to tie his skates. “I personally wouldn’t mind redoing the two I did for the Olympics. No use in making those a one time thing. I can work to improve them for higher marks.”

“And so that you can better perform your jumps,” Yakov adds.

Yeah, and that. Viktor doesn’t expect perfection, it really is asking a lot for a skater to perfectly land four or more quads in a free skate like that, but that last jumping error really was a silly mistake.

“So you think that the idea is good?” Viktor asks, standing up steadily.

“I think that you’re a twenty-five year old Olympic gold medalist who can decide for himself what he’s going to skate.”

Fair enough, Viktor thinks, standing up. “Alright. Sounds good.”

 

It’s odd. Since a few days after the Olympics free skate, Viktor felt very little from his soulmate. He used to get daily bursts of some sort of strong emotion - fear, happiness, anxiety - many times, ending up with at least four or five little things throughout a day; Viktor distinctly reminders one day where his soulmate must have been near dying with what was a thirty minute long streak of nothing but panic being fed into Viktor, continuing with similar anxious feelings for the rest of the day mixed in with intense relief, happiness, and pride. It felt like how he had felt before his very first junior grand prix competition. But now? It’s been two weeks since the Olympics, and Viktor hasn’t felt anything more than maybe one or two sparks of unrecognizable feelings every few days,

It’s distracting in a way it shouldn't be. While before, Viktor would often times get distracted when he noticed his soulmate’s presence, now he’s so busy worrying and waiting that it’s again breaking his focus. Again.

Yakov isn't all too pleased.

 

It’s the third quad Sal that Viktor has missed in this last hour of practice alone. He falls roughly onto the ice each time, however this time it seems to hurt a lot more. Not necessarily physically, but also mentally. He’s had that damn thing down for years now, and suddenly he’s messing it up again.

“Damn it,” Viktor breath, pushing himself back up.

“Viktor, take a break,” Yakov says in a tone that leaves no room for argument. (Well, not necessarily _no_ argument. Viktor’s gone up against that voice many times before, and even won against it a few times.)

Viktor skates to the edge of the ice and grabs his blade guards, putting them on one by one as he steps off of the ice. He needs to get his act together!

Frustrated, Viktor pulls out his phone from where his bag is sitting on a small bench, and scrolls through his contacts until he sees Christophe’s name. The other skater is likely to be awake by now. There isn’t much time difference between the two.

Things like this - skating errors and complications - Viktor wouldn’t normally share with anybody outside of who’s immediately there to see it. Call it a pride thing; the less people that know about his mishaps, the better. But Chris is, well, Chris, plus the entire reason (he thinks) this is happening is something that Viktor can't stand internalizing anymore.

“Hey, Yakov, I’m going to step out for a little bit,” Viktor says, lifting his phone in explanation when his coach looks over. After he gets a nod of approval, he makes a quick beeline to the brightly illuminated exit sign at the back of the large room.

As soon as the brisk outside air hits his face, Viktor hits the call button next to Chris’s. After only two rings, the other man picks up on the other end.

“Allo,” Chris answers, voice muffled. “Is everything alright?”

The cold quickly dig into Viktor, causing him to shove his free hand into his chest. He should have grabbed his coat before leaving.

“Ah, yeah. Everything is good here, mostly. How about for you?”

“About as well as things can go. It’s all very busy, but such is life as you know.” There’s a small pause, and just as Viktor is about to start speaking again, Chris continues. “Any luck on finding that soul mate of yours?” Viktor can practically hear Chris waggling his eyebrows, or something equally as ridiculous.

Viktor would probably see the question as invasive if it were somebody else asking, but he knows Chris wouldn’t push the subject if Viktor didn’t want it to be talked about. As it is, that’s most of the reason Viktor even called, so he can’t say he minds the topic being brought up. “No, and it’s so… frustrating, Chris. Not that I haven’t found them, but it’s so distracting. They’re distracting!” Viktor huffs. And they are. They're distracting him by not distracting him!

“Hmm? And how so?” Christophe asks.

It all seems ready to spill out, and before Viktor can stop himself, he’s speaking.

“For so long, well not long I guess, this whole thing had been just so distracting. The soulmark. It first appeared when I was sixteen, so it really did make a late appearance, and at the time I was just starting to break from the junior division, so I did everything I could to ignore the damn mark. Do you know how hard ignoring something is? I couldn’t stop thinking about it because I was too busy trying to not think about it! At such a bad time, too, but obviously I made it by very well anyways.

“So, you know, with the soulmark, you get emotions and all. Now, of course I enjoyed it. I liked knowing how my soulmate felt. They tended to be so happy, or so anxious, and it felt nice. But, because I’m the luckiest person in the world, the feelings liked to come at inopportune times a lot. Sometimes during practice and stuff, but the absolute worst was when I’d be on the ice for competition and all of a sudden I’m flooded with feelings. It’s frustrating, you know. Very distracting, and it always took me a second to try and calm it and keep it at bay. While having a soulmate is nice, I thought about how maybe it’d also be nice not always feeling so much from them.

”Well, g-d, if I thought feeling them was a distraction, now it’s even worse!” Viktor has to stop for a minute, his phone hand getting too cold. He can feel himself shivering, but he isn’t about ready to go inside and let others heas his woes, so he switches what hand he‘s using to hold his phone before he continues speaking. “I really didn’t expect much from the Olympics beyond at least helping my soulmate know who I am. I don’t know, what I did wasn’t exactly thought out. And when I was skating my free skate, it was nice. I felt them, and it was a good emotion that drove me on. But suddenly, two days after? Nothing. Well, some things, but only tidbits of shit that I don’t even understand! I have no idea what the feelings were! And it’s not even every day that I get them. Before, I'd’ feel them so many times a day, and now I can’t even feel them once a day.

“I miss it. I don’t know, I miss feeling them happy and sad and trying to calm them when they’re anxious. I mean, sure, the nerves weren't always good because I have a lot of them on my own without their help, but it felt good knowing I could calm them. And now I miss it. I’m worried about them. I’m so busy trying to feel something that I’m getting even more distracted than I was before. I’m having troubles thinking straight, Chris.

“I can’t even land a damn quad properly right now. I’ve successfully done one toe loop today, but that’s it. I even fell on a triple axle once.”

“Have you tried reaching out to your soulmate yourself?” Chris asks after a brief moment of silence. “Even if you don’t feel them, you can try sending something to them a feeling, of any sort really.”

“Uh….” No, Viktor hadn’t. “Do you think it may work? Like that? If I tried to reach to them, I mean,” he asks.

“It’s an idea, Viktor. You have to try and see if it works for yourself,” Chris says.

“Oh, yeah, yeah.”

Shit, he never thought about reaching out before. The idea never really occurred to him. While he’d sometimes respond to his soulmate’s feelings, he’d never before purposefully tried to send something to them without anything being sent his way first.

Now, with some sort of plan in his pocket, Viktor is already feeling marginally better. “Uh, thank you. For listening and helping.”

“Yeah, no problem. This just means that you now owe me some of your own time eventually,” Chris responds with a small laugh. “Try not to freeze yourself, too. I can hear your teeth chattering. Get inside. And don’t push yourself too hard and get hurt. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you were to leave me to go to competitions without you.” With that, Chris hangs up, leaving Viktor to stand about alone outside behind the ice rink.

Quickly, Viktor goes back inside. The flood of warm air from the building feels heavenly as he goes over to where his bag is and drops his phone on it.

Maybe he’ll now be able to function a little bit better knowing that later he can try reaching out to his soulmate for the first true time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yfip: me  
> -i created a climax just to make it dull because i'm boring
> 
> fun fact: i'm mcfreakin tired man


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't you just love when you're sitting there and all of a sudden it's just like "hey negative feelings or no feelings at all, you choose" and then all of a sudden you just wanna sit there doing nothing and you kinda just hate yourself and feel useless??
> 
> cuz i sure as hell do!

Viktor’s mind is once more (mostly) on track after he talks with Christophe. The rest of the practice, he does fairly well, being able to focus on what’s going on and what he’s doing. No disastrous mistakes are made, and that’s what’s important. While he walks out of the rink bruised, he’s still in one piece, both mentally and physically.

As he sits himself down on his bed, earbuds in as light music floods is played, Viktor tries to think of just what he should do. While trying to send some sort of emotion to his soulmate isn’t foreign to him, trying to decide just what to send is. Before, it had always been natural - if they panicked, he tried to calm them, if they were happy, he would send the feeling back in response - but now, he’s unsure.

Viktor knows he can’t directly send questions to his soulmate, only feelings, but he’s curious. After some thinking, he settles on curiosity. And worry. He needs to know if they’re okay.

The presence of his soulmate isn’t necessarily solidly there (as shown in the silence he’s been experiencing), yet there’s still an almost imagined manifestations of the link in the back of his mind. It takes Viktor a minute to find it, eyes closed to black out all distractions. Once he has a hold on it, Viktor’s breathing goes slow. He builds up the feelings he wants, and directs them as well as he can to the spot. He pushes it hard, a steady stream of emotions going to the point.

After a minute, he stops.

Slowly, he opens his eyes again, biting his bottom lip in anticipation. Would they answer back?

A few minutes go by, and nothing comes. Viktor is disappointed, but he can’t say he’s all too surprised. “It was a stupid idea anyway,” he sighs, tugging his earbuds out. “I don’t know why I expected anything from that. It was ridiculous.”

Just as Viktor is leaving his room, he freezes as a small pinprick of _something_ lingers heavily in his mind.

His soulmate.

Excited, Viktor quickly sits down on the floor, again closing his eyes to quickly concentrate. Right before the feeling disappears, he catches what it is.

It’s something Viktor has felt before, sure, but only a few times. An apology, mixed in with the feeling of being nothing but a disappointment. It’s a lost, all consuming feeling filled with desperation and fear for some sort of honest positive attention. It’s the feeling of not being enough. 

Viktor frowns. It wasn’t what he was expecting, and definitely not what he wants his soulmate to be feeling. Never in his wildest dream would he want them to feel like that.

So what had happened?

Viktor tries to send something soothing back to them, a show of care and affirmation. He wishes that he could directly talk to them, to hold them and make them feel better and to help them never have to feel that way again, but the best he can do is send something soothing and warm along the limited bond that they share.

There’s a brief spark of hope that dances along their metaphorical line before it dies out, replaced again with an apology and resignation. Viktor tries to send something back, but he gets nothing in return, the link going silent once more.

Maybe they just want to sleep, Viktor thinks as he stands up. But somewhere in him, he knows that’s not what happened.

He feels bad, really, that he can’t just comfort them. He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to help, but he’s not even sure if he can this time.

Quite simply, Viktor feels useless.

 

Viktor can’t help but pour himself back into work again. He can’t stand feeling useless, and the only way that he can think to get rid of the feeling is to fill himself up with any and all work he can do, to keep himself so busy that he can’t think about anything but what he’s doing. He forces himself to exhaustion everyday, pushes himself to such a point that his thoughts can’t run around his mind properly. Because if he can’t think, then maybe it’ll just… go away. The stress. This way, he can keep on track.

Hell, it’s better this way, Viktor thinks. For both him and his soulmate. They’re obviously in a tight situation wherever they are, and they’re not interested in him right now. So he leaves them be, while also trying his hardest to not lose too much focus again. The Worlds are approaching quickly, and the want to improve his programs offers just the perfect distraction for him. At least this way, it’s good for the both of them.

 

Viktor arrives in Japan for the Worlds a week before the actual competition is set to start. Yet, when he gets there, things feel different than they should. It’s not a matter of location, but just… well, if Viktor is being honest, he doesn’t even know exactly what it is. Everything just feels off.

It nags at his mind. While normally, Viktor would be dead to the world the moment he found his hotel room, trying to sleep off jet lag, he finds that this time, he just can’t seem to sleep. His mind i too busy trying to run through everything that has happened and is happening to try and come up with some explanation for the feeling that he’s having. He lays in his bed for two hours, eyes wide open as he tries to figure out just what the hell it is.

Finally, truly exhausted, he falls under the influence of sleep. His dreams are laced with worry and anxiety, no real driving force behind them.

Viktor wakes late into a morning - some morning, Viktor’s sense of time has long been lost since his decision to throw himself fully into training and focus on little else. He’s not necessarily tired anymore, having gained a considerable amount of rest, yet he wants nothing more than to just go back to sleep. His dramas had left him feeling restless, unsatisfied with what sleep he had gotten.

His thoughts are quickly struck down by the sound of his phone going off.

Groaning, Viktor rolls over in his bed and grabs the offending device. It must be Yakov, he thinks, making sure everything is okay, or something like that. He brings the phone to his face, squinting as the bright light assaults his still sleep worn eyes. It takes a second to actually be able to focus on the screen, but when he finally manages it, Viktor just huffs.

The notification happened to be one of twelve messages sent by the one and only Christophe.

As Viktor reads the messages, his brains slowly catches up to everything. He looks at the time - eleven in the morning - and his forces himself out of bed. Technically, he’s supposed to met Chris in half an hour.

Before going off to get ready, Viktor shoots a text telling Chris that he's going to be at least another hour. Better late than never, Viktor thinks, his body and mind wanting little more than to just wrap himself up in a cocoon of warmth and not leave the bed for another three days.

Viktor takes incredibly too long getting ready. Twenty-five minutes alone are spent in the shower, where he mostly just stands under the spray of hot water. When he finally step out, every inch of his skin is tingling and is tinted some shade of red, certain spots like his shoulders and back darker than others. After that, he spends another ten minutes trying to decide what he’s even going to wear.

“I shouldn't even be here,” Viktor grumbles, pulling his shirt over his head. “Or Chris, really. But Chris is only here because I’m here.” The Worlds were really a mistake. Yakov must have been mad when he mentioned them. But then again, Viktor didn’t try to stop his having a spot in the lineup, so he can’t put all of the blame on Yakov. And really, up until just a few weeks ago, he had wanted to skate in this competition.

Finally, ten minutes before twelve, Viktor’s out of the door of the hotel, looking for a taxi.

Viktor and Chris had agreed to meet up with each other in some zoo in town, Omiya Park Zoo if he remembered correctly, which is easy enough to say to the driver. And what a blessing that is because while Viktor may still not be perfect in English, the damn language may as well be his first when compared to Japanese.

The drive isn’t too long, and soon enough he’s outside the front gates to the zoo. Chris is already there, trying his hardest not to stick out like a sore thumb, it seems. With a quick thank you, Viktor pays his driver gets out, making a beeline to where Chris stands.

“Well, you look like shit,” Chris greets, raising an eyebrow at Viktor when he sees him.

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” Viktor jokes, smiling a little. But he can’t help but cringe a little on the inside. He had tried his hardest to not look like death walking, but apparently his attempts at that had failed for the most part.

The two stay side by side as they pay for entry, neither ready to wander off without the other. 

It’s strange, Viktor thinks. When he had first met Chris, the younger man was seemingly only able to look at him with awe filled eyes, stumbling over words nervously. Viktor hadn’t known his name, where he was form, or anything about him. He had given Chris some flowers, Viktor remember. Since then, their relationship has certainly evolved. What had once been an idol and fan awkwardly trying to work out just what to do around each other is now what Viktor considers his closest friendship.

“Nikiforov and Giacometti spend first day in Saitama at a zoo rather than on the rink practicing,” Chris says in a faux reported voice, holding his phone up to his mouth like microphone as the two make their way down a thinly populated walkway. “While Giacometti seems fine, Nikiforov has been hospitalized after coach finds out he’s slacking right before a world competitions.”

Viktor lets out a light laugh at that. “Yakov isn’t that bad, you know,” he says.

“Says the guy who’s been so busy practicing that he hasn’t been able to return my calls for weeks,” Chris says, pouting dramatically.

Viktor doesn’t tell Chris that it’d been his own doing that had him practicing such long hours, leaving him no real time for personal time because he didn’t trust himself to be left alone to his own devices for too long, didn’t want to have any time to actually think about anything.

Time passes slowly. Viktor and Chris, at times, spark some small talk. But mostly, what Viktor enjoys the most, are the moments when they are just walking side by side in silence, both enjoying the sights that are sound them. Both enjoying each other’s company.

All too soon, they’re leaving, each splitting the pay for the taxi that takes them back to their hotel as the sun starts its descent in the sky. Once inside the lobby, they part ways.

Slowly, Viktor makes his way up to the hotel room. His mind is a jumbled mess, and he wants nothing more than to look outside and see that it isn’t late in the day, and to drag Chris back with him to the zoo and to stretch the day out for forever. The Worlds are set to start in a week, and already Viktor is feeling an anxious bite at his mind that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, the sharp fear of failure plaguing his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on to the shit load of math and english homework i have due tomorrow. adieu.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea hola everybody
> 
> let's all clap for me surviving the last few days!! like,, yeah holy shit,,,

Viktor spends the final days leading up to the competition on the rink, much like most, if not all, of the other skaters.

While the time spent on the ice is for finalizing certain aspects of his programs and simply just the practice of them, it also offers Viktor something more. It helps him not think, to just be. His first day in Japan had thrown him off with how things has just felt wrong. But, much like before, skating put his mind off of that, allowed for him to just throw everything to the wind in favour of doing what he loves the most.

However, that serenity can’t last forever, Viktor can’t stay skating forever.

The night before the competition, Yakov sends Viktor back early, telling him to get extra rest for the next day. Viktor easily complies and makes the short walk back to the hotel in relative peace and silence.

Exhausted for the most part, Viktor’s mind runs on a soft, tired hum for the most part, only really functioning enough to get him back. Soon enough, however, the absence of the sun makes itself known. While not necessarily cold outside, the temperature is low enough that Viktor finds itself just on the edge of shivering. Slowly, his mind begins to wake up in response, body more alert.

A block away from the hotel, nerves once more rear their ugly head.

Now, Viktor has faced many kinds of nerves, the fear of what he did for the Olympics being a prime example, but this really is a kind that he hasn't been faced with in a very long time. He remembers it very clearly, though, mind shooting back to days leading up to and of his senior debut, which makes this whole situation just odd. While a senior debut is one thing, this is a completely other thing. He’s been skating at the Worlds for years upon years, has won gold after gold; he has absolutely no reason to be feeling this way, and to such an extent.

Viktor tries to calm himself by keeping his breathing steady, hoping that he can stave off any real panic. He’s almost back to the hotel, and then he can be alone and everything will be okay. He’ll be able to run things through his head in private, and it’ll all be okay.

Or maybe not.

The first thing Viktor notices when he walks into the hotel lobby is the crowd of reporters. The second is his lack of a clear path to the elevators around said reporters.

Damn it.

Putting his head down, Viktor tries to make a quick escape, skirting the sizeable group. Unfortunately, even without his face, Viktor is quite easy to recognize, his bright eye-capturing hair colour aiding in his sticking out in an large crowds.

And apparently, his head being down coupled with his fast walking wasn’t a large enough clue for them to leave him alone. Or, they just don’t care. It could even be both.

All it takes is one person to recognize him, and he already knows he’s lost.

“Viktor!”

The first voice calls out to him, and Viktor stops dead in his tracks, letting a small huff out. While he’d normally love to talk with the press, tonight just isn’t the night. Really, this entire weak hasn’t been the week, but of course, he can't let them know.

Throwing on a the largest smile he can, Viktor turns to the group, giving a small wave. “Allo!” he greets, already trying to think of a way to escape.

“How are you feeling about your short program tomorrow, Mr. Nikiforov?” a man asks.

Viktor can only be grateful that they're speaking English so far, and not expecting him to know Japanese.

“Well, Yakov and I have worked hard to make it the best that we could,” Viktor starts, eyeing the large circle of people around him, “so hopefully our work won't be for nothing. I think it’s great, really. While it can always have room for improvement, we’ve worked our hardest on this since the Olympics, so I can feel that it will be very good. I’m quite excited to perform it tomorrow.”

It’s not a lie. Even through all the foreign serves, Viktor has always loved performing for crowds, has always loved such large spotlight being shone on him. Nothing could change that. He loves skating, and he loves sharing it with the world.

“Do you think that you're skating has been impacted by any backlash from Russia after what you did in your Olympic free skate?”

Viktor freezes and turns to the man who asked the question, trying his hardest to not just give him some snippy response. The question is ridiculous. What “backlash” was there to affect his skating? While many people had judged his choice harshly, calling him indecent, immature, and prideless, he’s still the ice prince of Russia. Nothing can change that, no matter how many words are thrown his way.

“My skating is my skating,” Viktor says slowly, unsure of what to say without sounding like a total jackass. “It always will be, no matter what anybody has to say about it.”

“But there have been pretty nasty thing reported about you, Mr. Nikiforov. Surely they have had some sort of effect on you.”

Viktor frowns at the man’s persistence at the topic. Why did it matter in the first place? “There have always been things said about me, and I’m sure there always will be,” he says. “It’s come from all over the world. America, Spain, France, China… many people have said things about me. Just because this time it’s some of my own people speaking against me means nothing. Until somebody tries to remove me from a rink, I don’t think anything like this will ever really affect me and my skating. I brought home an Olympic gold medal, and many other golds from events such as the Europeans and Worlds. Nobody can or will forget about that, no matter how they view what I did. I’m still Russian, and they’re still Russian. They’re all my brothers and sisters, and could never really hurt me.

“Now, if you’d mind, I am feeling rather tired and want to be well rested for tomorrow.” Before waiting for a response, Viktor makes his exit, thankful when he’s not followed.

 

ViKtor wakes up all too earlier in the morning, courtesy of the rising sun. It’s not even 6:30 when he decides that he won’t be able to get back to sleep.

Slowly but surely, he manages to get himself out of bed and ready for what's’ sure to be a long day. While his body longs for a bit more sleep, just ten minutes more, Viktor knows that it’d be a useless attempt. Despite how he physically wants to fall back into bed, he’s too mentally strung to go back to sleep.

By 7:30, he’s on his way to the rink.

Viktor can’t help but feel relieved when he sees that he’s not the only skater out this early.One of the Chinese skaters - a man only a year older than Viktor if he remember correctly - is already on the ice, although all he’s doing is lazy laps.

After Viktor sends a quick text to Yakov, letting his coach know where he is, Viktor makes a quick work of putting his skates on. Which a small nod of acknowledgement to the other skater, Viktor joins him in the small, mindless laps around the ice. Hopefully this will be enough to fill wake him up.

Only two other skaters, Chris and a young Canadian man, show up before everybody is kicked from the ice for “preparations” to be made for the upcoming events.

Yakov joins Viktor three hours before the competitions is set to start.

Only three hours.

Something starts to eat at Viktor again, like he shouldn’t be here. And it’s so weird. He has no idea why he’s feeling this way. It just makes no sense! He tries to shake it off as he does basic stretches over and over, trying to let loose some nervous energy, but it won’t leave. That, doubled with the anxiety, is enough to really shake Viktor because he has no idea what the hell is going on.

He feels like he’s sixteen again.

All too soon, the hours fly by and Viktor is back on the ice for the six minute warm up. He manages to keep steady, landing his quad Lutz when he tries it. It’s a good sign, he hopes.

Right before leaving the rink to leave the first skater alone, Viktor takes a look at the audience all around. Strangely, he doesn't feel any sort of spike in his anxiety at the sight of them, yet neither does he feel a decrease in it. It just makes no sense to him. If it’s not the large crowd and idea of performing, then what is it?

 

One skater goes, then two, and finally the third one. Viktor watches them all, not too closely, but enough to admire them. They’re all talented in their own way, he thinks, just like he himself is. None of them are perfect, but nobody wants perfection in this sport. After all, what’s the point of continuing to skate if you can no longer push yourself further?

The sound of his name being called pulls Viktor back. With a deep breath, he takes off his skate guards and pulls his jacket off, gently allowed Yakov to take them.

The time is now.

Slowly, he glides onto the ice, doing one small loop around it to take another quick look at the crowd. They're loud with their excitement, some holding up Russian flags, others what look like homemade signs. It makes him smile to see that, even here, he has support.

As he takes to the center of the ice, the anxiety that’s been clawing away at him gives way, almost tangibly crumbling inside of him. It feels freeing, and Viktor’s eyes go wide at the sensation. he feels calm, relaxed, ready, awe filled-

Wait.

Just as the thought crosses his mind, Viktor’s forced to start moving, music exploding above him, sinking deep into his body and muscles.

No wonder he didn’t understand the emotions. After all, they weren’t Viktor’s to understand.

They had felt so real and strong, he couldn’t figure it out. And with such perfect timing, too, such perfect timing for it to all line up with this and then to fall away into nothing.

Viktor can only assume one thing.

His soulmate is watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel so happy i got this painful ass bruise on my knee from falling while trying to do a jump on the ice like it's a lot more difficult than i remember which means i gotta not be a dingus and should actually just join the skate club here if i wanna be doin that shit again ya know


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who gave himself a concussion
> 
> hint: it was me
> 
> anyways this was only sort of hell to actually type up like my sensitivity to light has gone down considerably but i still have a massive ass headache so rtuhrejtghb
> 
> other things i have done: not my homework, built two towers (with someone who is NOT my crush i have no idea what you're talking about but my gay ass does not have a crush on my partner i don't know where you got that idea from shut the hell up)

The only thing that matters to Viktor that day is that he knows (thinks) that his soulmate is watching. He pours his heart into his program, unable to think about much more than that they’re watching. They’re watching _him_ , and seeing him had calmed them down.

At the end of the first day of competitions, Viktor finds himself leading the scoreboard by a good margin with his 107.8 points from the short program, just barely missing his personal best.

Suddenly, he no longer regrets coming to Worlds this year.

Viktor’s first course of action when he gets back to his hotel room (late in the day, thanks to the ever kind press) is to text Chris. However, Chris, in his old man way (Viktor shouldn’t be thinking that considering that he is older than Chris is, but oh well), is to call Viktor to get any details because apparently texting just isn’t enough for him. Granted, calling is considerably easier for Viktor with how his phone, and therefor autocorrect, is set to Russian. He imagines Chris is in a similar situation where English just isn’t the default language.

“So tell me about how your love life is finally progressing,” is the first thing that passes through Chris’ lips.

Viktor has to roll his eyes, but no matter how ridiculous of a thing it was to say, he’s still smiling. “Definitely not progressing,” he says. “I just know that my soulmate was watching, okay. And they may not have even necessarily been here live. It was probably just through a livestream, you know.”

Chris lets out a dramatized sigh. “Spoil sport, you know. Completely spoil sport. So I again ask, what happened?”

“Right, right okay,” Viktor says, running a hand through his hair and sitting down on his bed. “So, basically, for this entire week that we’ve been here, I’ve been feeling really nervous, but of course I just assumed, you know, the Worlds are happening, so obviously I’m just nervous about that, and-”

“Viktor, tell me the last time you’ve seriously been nervous about competition,” Chris interrupts. “Mr, ‘I Don’t Remember What Anything But A Gold Medal Feels Like Anymore’.”

“For one, I was nervous about the Olympics-”

“Yes, well, you had a reason for that.”

“Will you shut up for three seconds?” Viktor asks. After a quick sorry, he continues. “And secondly, it’s normal to feel that way, you know.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure. I’m sure you’re always worried about events. You’re practically shaking at the knees as soon as you get on the ice!” Chris mumbles. “But, okay, cool. You were a normal person for once. So what big about that?”

“So, you know I was really anxious, which is really odd because I don’t exactly tend to feel like that when it comes to events like this-” Chris whispers something that Viktor can’t quite understand -”but I just let it go. It didn’t really drag me down in practice or anything, so it just didn’t seem like a big deal. Well, anyways, so when we were doing our warm ups in the beginning, I was looking at the crowd like I normally do, and oddly enough, I felt nothing happening to the anxiety. Like, I thought I had been nervous because of what’s going on? But apparently that wasn’t what it was because, you know, seeing hundreds of eyes on me wasn’t my problem. It wasn’t stage fright.

“And so I’m waiting for my turn, really fidgety as the other were going, and my name is called. Blah blah, you know how it goes and all, okay. But again, even though I was just about to perform, I didn’t suddenly get sweaty hands or some shit in the anticipation, it just was normal. And then, all of a sudden, it just stops! Like, I’m at the center of the ice about ready to start, and all of the nerves? They just dropped. Gone. Completely as the music starts and you know what I felt? Aw! Like, awe, happiness, some weird feelings and I just wasn’t nervous anymore, and there was really no reason for me to just magically not be nervous, just like I had no reason to just be magically jumping out of my skin about this whole damn thing,” Viktor eplains, eyes drawn to the side as he remembers just how good of a feeling it was when he was starting to skate.

“So you think it was your soulmate?” Chris asks slowly.

“Precisely!” Viktor exclaims. “They had been watching, Chris! And seeing me had calmed them!”

“Mhm… okay, so, do you think that they’re here then?”

“Probably not,” Viktor says, falling onto his back to look at the ceiling. While he wishes that they could be here, whoever they are, it’s very unlikely. But that doesn’t matter all too much to him. So what if they can’t afford to buy tickets and go to Japan for a World figure skating championship; there’s no saying that they even like the sport in the first place, so just the fact that they took time out of their life to watch him is enough to make Viktor happy.

“Well, when we go out tomorrow, you’ll have to tell me more about this and what happens tomorrow, then,” Chris says. After a small pause, he adds, “I’m happy that you’re happy, Viktor.”

“Thank you Chris. I’m happy about it too.”

“Well, I would hope so,” Chris jokes. “You have any plans for tonight?”

“Mm, nothing beyond sleeping,” Viktor replies.

They drift off into companionable silence like that, neither one willing to hang up the phone, but also not having much more to talk about. While not physical, the company is nice. Viktor almost wishes that he had just went to Chris’ room to talk about this, or had the other skater come here, but even this is okay. Just knowing Chris is there is enough to help Viktor is considerable ways.

“Is it nice?” Viktor asks suddenly.

“Is what nice?”

“Having a soulmate.. Like, knowing them and all. Is it nice?” Chris had met his soulmate when he was just seventeen, only a year older than Viktor was his his mark had appeared.

“It’s good,” Chris says. “Frustrating sometimes, but good all the same.”

“That’s good. Are you happy with it?”

“Very.”

 

Viktor is excited for his free skate, sure that his soulmate, wherever they are, will be watching.

This time, when Viktor makes an early arrival at the rink, he’s the first one there. But it doesn’t take long for other skaters to filter their way in, one by one, some practically being dragged in by coaches. And soon, all those in his block are there, milling about and waiting for things to get started.

About thirty minutes before the warm-up is set to start, people start to file into the stands set up. Viktor looks at as many as he can, trying to see all of their faces. Chris had gotten him thinking last night. What if one of the people up there is his soulmate? What if they’re her, and Viktor just doesn’t know it? He wants to see them, to know-

“Hey, you looking for something specific, old man?”

Confused, Viktor turns around to see who’s talking to him. He finds himself looking down at a rather short, blond kid. Yuri. Why is he here? And why is he concerned with what Viktor is doing.

“I’m just looking at the people,” Viktor says, unsure of what else he really can say.

He's never been the best with kids, in all honesty. Nobody ever taught him how to deal with them. The extent of his interaction with them really ends with those under Yakov’s training, allowing it all to be monitored and (moderately) controlled by his coach. Of course, he’ll smile and encourage young fans of his who approach him, but he never really talks with them. And handling them? That's even less out of his court. It’s just not his specialty.

“Yeah well… okay,” Yuri says awkwardly, shifting in his oversized hoody. He looks smaller than ever like this, eyes cast to the ground, seemingly drowning in his too large clothes. He’s always had a loud mouth, but like this, it’d never be guessed.

“Okay?”

Yuri moves to turn around, but stops midway. “Uh, good luck,” he says awkwardly.

Now it’s just getting awkward, Viktor thinks.”Thank you,” he replies, giving Yuri a small smile.

“And, uh, don’t take this to heart or anything, but I think you’re brave,” Yuri says quickly,eyes fixed firmly away from Viktor’s direction. “What you did at the Olympics and all… and here, too. What you’re doing. Yeah. Good luck.” Without so much as a goodby, Yuri is gone, disappearing from sight.

That was… odd to say the least. Viktor hadn’t even been aware that Yuri was in Japan. Let alone that he was here.

Viktor thinks about the words for a few minutes, looking at the ground now. Yuri had called him brave. Viktor has never thought of himself as brave before. Dumb and reckless? For sure. But brave? Never. And that Yuri thinks such a way just because of what Viktor had done….

Huh.

 

Skating has always come naturally to Viktor. Ever since he first stepped onto the ice, it was clear just where his future was going to take him. And now, here he is, showing where enough persistence can get somebody.

As he flies across and over the ice, he wishes to be nowhere else. This is his home, his love, his passion. This is his life. This is Viktor Nikiforov. While he knows he only has a few years at best best left in him, he still can’t wait for the day when he can share this with his soulmate. No matter how little time he has left, he’s determined to do all that he can to pass it on in some way. This love of the ice is just as much part of him as is his soulmark.

When Viktor’s free skate ends - all quads landed this time, though his last was shaky enough for some sort of deduction - he gives a large smile to everybody he can, all the cameras trained on him.

Flowers rain down around him as the crowd above has its moment of loud glory. He’s surprised to see three small poodle dolls also thrown down to the ice; the crowd had seemed jam packed with people from Japan, so having people with such a gift is more or less not what he was expecting this far away from home.

After a minute passes, Viktor makes his exit, letting his large smile drop into something a little more natural. He’s confident in what he just skated. He swears that though the program, he felt his soulmate. Maybe he had just been imagining things while in the moment, but it felt real. It had to be real, and that just drives his need to be the best.

It doesn’t take too terribly long for the scores to display. At 187.33, it’s a higher score than when he performed the program at the Olympics, but not by too terribly much. Only 1.1 more points were gained. But it doesn’t matter because his name, flag, and score of 295.13 is sitting clear at the top of the board.

Viktor feels proud, more than anything. He's proud that he did the while his soulmate had been watching, proud that this program he put together for them allowed him to continue his reign on the ice as the ISU’s World Championship gold medalist.

“You did good, Vitya,” Yakov says gruffly, slapping a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you.”

Viktor nods in response, eyes already going to focus on the reporters crowding him. After all, this is his third consecutive win at the Worlds, right after winning an Olympic Gold; they’re going to be interested in him.

And while the reports are great and all, Viktor wants nothing more than to search the crowd and see if, just maybe, his soulmate is among those seated. He wants them, he realizes. He wants to get his medal and walk up to them proudly, to show just just what he did for them.

Viktor is visibly distracted during his interviews, too busy thinking about his soulmate. He’s flooded with joy, and hopes that, whenever his soulmate is, that they can share the feeling with him.

The ceremony runs as normal as ever. Chris earns a silver medal and the Chine skater Viktor had seen the day before is at the bottom of the podium, proudly holding up his bronze. Despite how the ceremony is entirely for formalities, Viktor can’t deny that he enjoys it every single time.

Soon, even that passes, and Viktor slips away to change back into his street clothes, red and white jacket overtop everything. He makes quick work of joining Yakov as they make their way near the exit - they don’t plan to leave right way, but it’s safer to stay near the doors for a quick escape if or when necessary.

Many people approach Viktor, mostly little kids, as he sits next to Yakov on a small bench. It makes Viktor happy to see them all wandering over to him, many unable to verbally communicate with him due to a language barrier; nonetheless, they all get their points across in one way or another. While some have posters they want signed, many just look at him in awe and get giddy with joy when he smiles at them.

Just as Viktor goes to stand, tapping on Yakov’s arm to let him know he wants to leave, one final person approaches him.

He looks Japanese as far as Viktor can tell, so he just nods in his direction, unsure if the man speaks any English. Dark brown eyes flick back and forth behind blue glasses in a nervous gesture, frames looking ready to fall off in the way that they sit low on his nose. He has his bottom lip tugged into his mouth, and Viktor is about to speak first to break the ice before he’s stopped. A nauseating wave of nervousness smashes into him, causing him to keep his mouth shut.

Damn it. Such an inappropriate time for this. His soulmate really does know when to make an appearance, don’t they.

Thankfully, the other boy finally speaks first.

“Um, I’m Katsuki Yuuri,” he says, English nearly perfectly enunciated as he ducks his head. “And you’re Viktor Nikiforov.”

 

Viktor nods his head, offering him a smile. His stomach is twisting itself into knots.

“I just- I’m a big fan,” he says quickly, cheeks tinged red. “I um… I skate myself, a little bit, but it’s nowhere as good as yours. You’re phenomenal.”

Finally, Viktor manage to speak, the feeling ebbing away just slightly. “I’m sure you are very good yourself.”

Looking at the boy, Katsuki Yuuri, Viktor can see him on the ice. He has the build for it, and while he looks rather nervous for a sport that hinges on crowds admiring you, anxiety doesn’t tend to hold anybody back for too long in the sport.

“No-not that good, really,” he mumbles. “But yeah, you are a great skater. G-d, that sounds so lame….” Awkwardly, he shuffles his feet, and, after taking one last look at Viktor with wide eyes, he scurries off.

Now that they’re (relatively) alone, Viktor turns to the now standing Yakov. They nod at each other before making their leave. But as they walk away, Viktor can’t help but throw the kid a confused look back his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> young yurio makes another appearance
> 
> not so young yuuri makes his own appearance, viktor just has no idea who the hell this stranger is because he's such a dingus


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school: just a reminder that ap testing starts next week
> 
> me, an intellectual: wait w h a t
> 
> also tomorrow i'm going to school as albert einstein so it's gonna be chill
> 
> side note (again): my partner (not crush mind you, i don't like him at all) and my's tower like.. it did so well!! or so we thought. ended up not even getting a medal :(( it was fifth, and then i got like.... sixth in an astronomy event and fourth (fourth, as in, one away from third, one place away from placing t_t) in this lab based event that i am still not sure what was.

A soon as Viktor opens the door to his apartment, his arms are filled with an excited mass of fluff. After a minute of attacking Viktor, Makkachin backs off to let his owner through the doorway.

“I missed you Makkachin!” Viktor says, smiling as he kneels down to get on a more even level with his dog. When he opens his arms, Makkachin again launches himself at Viktor, immediately going to lick his face in greeting. Viktor laughs as he tries to keep his dog’s tongue away from himself, but when he gets back up, there are a few portions of his face that are a bit more wet than Viktor wishes they were.

Quick work is made of putting everything away, dirty clothes being thrown to the side while his skates and costumes are gently handled to their respective places in his room. Everywhere Vikor goes, Makkachin follows closely.

It’s nice having his faithful companion back again, nice to be able to just reach down and find instant comfort in the ever present Makkachin. The worse part about leaving St. Petersburg is leaving him behind. The two have a strong bond, and while no distance or time can break it, it still makes parting difficult.

With the end of the Worlds comes the start of the off season. Or, as much of an off season a figure skater gets. While competitions don't lurk around every corner in the long stretch of time, practice still does. No matter how much Viktor enjoys breaks, true breaks never last for more than a few days - so as to always keep in peak form. It’s on these off seasons that the largest of changes and improvements fall upon a skater.

But, even if there are no real breaks, it’s still nice and enjoyable. Viktor can’t say that he wishes for more. By nature, he tends to be a rather busy person, and so this sort of thing really helps to keep him from getting too restless.

It’s a pretty simple life during these times, a life filled with rigorous work and long nights stretched out next to his dog, but he likes it.

 

Viktor stops feeling a lot from his soulmate again.

He’s disappointed, but it could be worse, he knows. When he does feel something, it’s not longer some dull flash of nothing. Sometime it’s happiness, sometimes it's hurt. But at least it’s something. Viktor craves the feeling, allows himself to drown in them on the rare occasion that they come by him.

The only thing he doesn't do is try to send them something again.

 

Yuri Plisetsky is an incredible skater for his age. Not that Viktor should be surprised -Yakov doesn’t make it a habit of taking on just any kid from the street - but he’s exceeding all of Viktor’s expectations. Yuri is small, smaller than average in the absence of puberty, but he works well with it under Yakov’s ever present guidance.

The only thing is that the kid has an incredible temper. He may be small and only fourteen, but he has a set of lungs on him that must make Yakov jealous with the way that he insists on using them solely for yelling. Plus, he has quite the vocabulary. But Yuri is persistent and determined. It’ll get him far, Viktor is sure.

Absolutely nobody is surprised when he’s put in line for the junior division Grand Prix. His grandfather, who Viktor has only seen a handful of times, is incredibly proud, but so is Viktor. He just refrains from squeezing the poor kid to death at the news.

 

Viktor is starting to get worried. As he works with his programs for the upcoming season, he realizes that he doesn’t feel them on a very deep level. He has to force it on himself, force a pseudo mindset onto himself just to skate the damn things without needing to use every single bit of his concentration on them.

Normally, it all just comes to him naturally, flowing through his very being as his emotions merge with the music and dance. But these two fail to properly click with him. This doesn’t happen to Viktor. He tries his hardest to feel something with the music and story - after all, he had damn near handcrafted this stuff with the aid of a choreographer - yet it just refuses to stick.

The most obvious solution is a program change. There’s enough time to switch it all up, Yakov even suggests it, but Viktor doesn't want to do that. This is his work; he wants to perform it for an audience, to show them what he can accomplish.

Extra work is put into it all. Viktor works around everything he can, tries to change step sequences and jumps to fit it all better for him. Eventually, he molds it into something he can work with on the ice with only a few days to spare before competitions begin.

But even with the changes, it just isn’t him, it isn’t Viktor. To Viktor, it feels like forcing two non matching piece of a puzzle together. Sure, it sticks, but it's not right. It doesn’t feel right to Viktor.

He skates it anyways.

Viktor doesn’t think there’s anything else to do. He obviously has it fixed well enough to where the lack of spark disappears from Yakov’s radar and nobody comments on any apparent lack of interest. His coach even smiles at him, applauding him, telling Viktor that he continues to overcome obstacles and grow into something unstoppable. He did a well enough job, so why go further on it?

The idea is funny in its own way, in Viktor’s mind. Yakov, and pretty much everybody, always tells him that. He’s the best skater of the era, he’s unstoppable, born for the ice. Nobody can ever surpass him. He’s the ice king.

So how come he doesn’t feel that way anymore?

Days again mold into one, but this time, for a completely different reason. Viktor wishes that he hadn’t once spent so much time into trying to numb his brain and just not feel. Now, all he wants to do is to finally feel again. He longs for the sensations from the last season, the ability to get lost in his program. To not feel robotic as he glides across the ice, unable to tell practices apart.

There’s no excitement as the schedules for the Grand Prix are given. Skate America and the Cup of China - he’s being pushed out of the way quick. Nobody questions that he’ll make it through them and to the final. They stopped that long go. The only thing that really hits Viktor is slight disappointment that he won’t be having any events with Chris through this run.

Soon enough, Viktor is boarding a plane from Russia that’s heading to the Americas.

No anticipation. No nervous energy.

Viktor misses the way that he felt at Worlds. At least then he had felt something in relation to a competition, even it it was was coming from his soulmate and not himself. At least it was something.

Viktor misses them.

 

A gold medal.

Viktor smiles for the cameras, shakes people’s hands, and runs through everything expected of him. America just isn’t as fun as it used to be.

Chris texts him a congratulations. Viktor sends him a good luck.

Not too long after, Viktor is in China and officially secures himself a spot in the final.

 

Boredom is scary, Viktor decides as he looks at himself in the small hotel bathroom mirror.

He’d known he’d get to this point eventually, but it all seems too soon. Not yet, not now. He still has more in him, he’s sure of it. This is the true peak of his skating career as he goes for his fourth consecutive win at this damn event, the short programs to be held tomorrow. Nobody has yet been able to find a way to dethrone him.

Viktors turns the water to the hottest temperature it will go, watching as the mirror starts to fog and distort his reflection. Part of him is put off by himself, shocked and hurt at what’s happening. It’s all too soon, and everything he has done so far to avoid it fails.

“Not yet,” he whispers, bracing his hands against the edge of the counter. “Not yet. Please, G-d, just give me some more time. Don’t make this all for nothing.”

Panic, this time. Not deep, just skimming the surface. But it’s panic all the same. Not yet. He’s not ready.

For so long, Viktor pushed everything he knew away in the name of his skating, pushed away the one thing he longs for even now. He wishes he hadn’t. He wishes that he can have more time, but it all feels like it’s slowly beginning to slip away from him, sliding past his fingers even as he desperately tries to clutch onto it.

“I don’t want it to end. Not now, please. I need more time.” Viktor knows that he sounds desperate, sounds pathetic as he pleads to his own vague outline in the mirror, but it’s all that he has left to do. It’s all that he can do. “Give me just a little more…. Just one more year, please.”

Blankly, he looks up into the translucent surface in front of him. Viktor wants to cry, but he finds himself unable to, a dull numbness taking over his very being as he stares at himself.

He doesn’t stay in the bathroom for long. He turns off the water and opens the door, letting all the steam flood out of the room. The cold air from outside encompasses Viktor, its hug chilling as he switches off the light and makes his way out. He fixes his features as the real world once again falls around him.

Maybe the key is to keep acting like Viktor Nikiforov, even away from the prying eyes all around him. Maybe all it takes is to let himself become what they all want from him.

Maybe… maybe there is no hope. Maybe he screwed himself over all those years ago when he decided that his career in skating, that his name and face, were more important than even his soulmate, the one thing that supposedly nobody can screw up.

Maybe he just doesn’t deserve it. Any of this.

Maybe this is the destined downfall of one Viktor Nikiforov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also can i just say that figure skaters are really fucking dramatic like the other day i was hearing a fucking fifteen year old on the ice near bawling her eyes out because she thought that she was going to be too old for the sport soon and she needs to start thinking about a last program to skate and how she couldn't ever think about quitting and i was just,,, child


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who is, once again, procrastinating with math homework. i see a correlation between mountains of that shit and me posting a chapter.... hmmm.......

Chris tries to talk to Viktor before the short program, but Viktor blows him off, lost in himself. He knows Chris won’t take it to heart, and so while he does feel a little bad for not even offering his friend an explanation for it, he doesn’t worry about any real consequences arising. Knowing Chris, he’ll just assume something is up and shrug it off as he always does.

And Viktor isn’t really trying to be like this, to display himself as a total jackass, but he can’t afford to break right before a competition. Last night shook Viktor more than he’s willing to admit, shook him more than it rightfully should have, with his thought spiralling. If the price of keeping it under control is Chris potentially getting a bit suspicious, then so be it.

His solution, as put together last night, is to try and play it cool. Act like nothing's wrong, like he isn’t questioning his future. Chris knowing something is off is okay. He won't try and spread the news or talk about it. He knows better, knows Viktor would never be able to forgive him for that. And as long as nobody else knows, it’ll be okay.

When did he get like this? Viktor’s spent so much time trying to be something else, somebody else for the sake of the camera, that he’s left to wonder when the last time anybody beyond those he’s close to has actually seen who he is? When Viktor was younger he was an open book, and even as he got a bit older, he continued to not try and mask himself. But more recently, he’s spent more time just smiling for the cameras and telling them what they want to hear. He’s an ideal concept, unreal, for the world.

“Representing Russia, Viktor Nikiforov.”

The words barely register with Viktor, but he still manages to slip his skate jacket off before gracefully stepping onto the ice. There’s no thrill, no excitement running through him like large competitions should bring to him. Nothing.

Now, more than ever, Viktor wants _them_. He want his soulmate. But they're not here, and the absence fills Viktor with a numb sort of longing. Longing. Too bad it’s not even close to any sort of theme for his pieces this year.

The Music starts and Viktor starts to move.

Nothing really wants to flow this time. No longer is Viktor a puppet to the ice; his strings have disappeared, have been stolen from him, leaving him clumsy and lifeless. His movements are messy and unskilled, nothing guiding them.

Even so, he puts a smile on his face. The feeling of wrong persistently eats away at him, but yet he smiles. Never before has Viktor longed for the end of a season as much as he does now.

The jumps are simple. They're the only good thing about any of this, Viktor thinks. For the minimal time that he’s in the air, he can almost imagine that the situation is different. His focus is more on not falling and a proper landing that he’s able to throw everything else away.

But he always lands.

Viktor hears the claps and cheers. They feel wrong too. He doesn’t deserve praise for this. Hell, he doesn’t even deserve to be here on these robotic programs that are all for show. Every step sequence is a little too hard, too sharp, unfocused.

Finally, the end approaches.

His feet move fast in the final seconds, bringing in his closing. And then the music lifts to applause.

Viktor’s tired as he stands on the ice, again smiling for all to see. It’s a tired that strikes him to his very core - a mental exhaustion that feel like it could drown Viktor is it really tried.

He skates off of the ice slowly, not thinking to pick up any of the various gifts that were thrown down to him. He just wants to go, to get this all over with. No need to linger this time.

Viktor meets Yakov at the edge of the ice, and the two go over to the kis and cry to wait for scores to be posted. They don't talk - nothing needs to be said.

103\. 78

Fair enough, Vikor thinks. Without much thought, he stands to move. He’ll stay for the rest of the short program, but after that, he plans to leave. He doesn’t want to go out, not today, or anytime this week. He‘s content to let these few days pass by, to drift into oblivion.

He wants the entire season to just disappear, to cease to exist.

With his head own, Viktor goes to the waiting room to watch as everything else goes. Nobody tries to bother him, not even Chris. While normally, Viktor would be slightly disappointed in everybody’s extreme hesitancy to approach him, today, he’s relieved by it. He doesn't think he could handle trying to hold a conversation right now, not without letting off some extreme warning sign of “hey, something is wrong here”.

Viktor ends the day with Chris ahead of him by less than point. It’s nothing that Viktor can’t beat with his free skate.

He walks back to the hotel that sits only a few blocks away from the rink. The streets and people pass by him blankly, his mind registering it all as nothing more than a small buzz. Viktor wants to fade away into the background with it all.

 

Viktor can’t even find it in himself to eat properly that night. He wants to be concerned about it, but he isn’t. He takes a few bite of the tasteless chicken he ordered, and leaves the rest, unable to stomach any more.

He’s frustrated with himself. He wants to go back to normal. Viktor hates this feeling, hates the way it’s haunted him these past few months, but he can’t shake it. It’s so much easier to simply accept it and let it wash over him.

That night, his sleep is dreamless.

 

Viktor thought that he felt like shit for his short program, but in comparison to the morning he wakes up for his free skate, he couldn't have felt better two days before.

He doesn’t feel bad in a sick way. No. He wishes that were it. Instead, he’s been on a steady decline mentally since the start of this whole damn event, slowly being eaten away at. He’s mentally exhausted, more so than he’s ever felt before, and finds himself more than willing to skip over the most simple of tasks, no matter how routine they may be.

This time, Yakov notices. As Chris would put it, Viktor looks like shit, and he swears he sees actual worry - deep concern - flash across Yakov’s face when he asks if Viktor is okay.

The question is rather useless. Yakov wouldn’t be asking Viktor it if he was doing okay, and both of them know it. But when Viktor gives his coach a tired smile and an affirmative nod, neither decide to go further on the topic. Yakov would probably talk to him about this later, but thankfully, he isn’t about ready to try and get into something too deep right before Viktor has to go out to do a long program.

It’s the small mercies like that that have Viktor reminding himself to be thankful for who his coach is.

The six minute warm up runs as smooth as ever, Viktor managing to keep on his feet. Nobody gets into anybody else’s way as the six people scheduled move across the ice in what could almost be described as a practiced harmony if the knowledge that nobody on this ice ever does this together wasn’t deeply set into everybody’s mind.

The minutes left on the ice tick down, dragging into seconds, and within time, only one person remains to start them all off.

Viktor tucks himself away in a corner, away from everybody else, to stretch. Yakov hovers close by, watching Viktor. Viktor thinks he can still see the worry in the other man’s eyes; it looks like he’s trying to study Viktor, to Viktor simply ignores him. Let him think what he wants to think - they both know Yakov wouldn't dare try and bring anything up again. Not until they’re both back in Russia, alone with nobody else around to hear, and nothing to jeopardize.

A word rings through Viktor’s mind as he sits on the ground.

Prodigy.

It’s what they called Viktor - still call Viktor - but as he sits on the floor, feels the hint of a strain on his muscles where there hasn’t been one before, he wonders how long the word will last in association with him. How long until he slips away into just another figure skater whose body gave up? He’s getting old, aging as everybody else ages. If he announced this to be his last season, would anybody beyond maybe Yakov and Chris be surprised?

Viktor Nikiforov has already shed the title of being the _young_ prodigy of the male figure skating world, so how long until he loses the “prodigy” all together?

It’s not a new revelation, but the effect of the thought crossing his mind is all the same. He really doesn’t have much time left.

“Vitya, it’s time to go.”

Viktor looks up at Yakov and gives him a curt nod. Slowly, he rises, half expecting to hear creaks and moans coming from his body. But they don't come, and he readily follows Yakov to the rinkside.

The Frenchman steps off of the ice. Viktor follows his every move with his eyes until he disappears from sight. As soon as his score is announced, Viktor steps onto the ice.

The ice is familiar, welcoming Viktor like an old lover. It embraces him, tells him how much it loves and cares for him. Viktor doesn’t reciprocate the gesture and kind words, staying limp and silent as it whispers sweet nothings into him.

Before, the ice gave him a voice. Now, it silences him.

The high shrill of a violin rings out through the stadium, and Viktor falls into it in a an instant.

His voice is lost, strings lost. Everything is lost, crushed by some deadly, hiding force. His eyes feel heavy, soul dropping as he sees it approaching him, hunting him. Viktor tries his hardest to keep away from it, every drop sending an echoing shout out around him. No matter where he goes, it follows, getting closer and closer.

He jumps again, and it causes the creature to back up for a second. But he lands, again, and it begins to circle him this time. Viktor tries to turn away from it, but it always comes back into view. Dangerous, deadly… its eyes are on Viktor.

Viktor takes a sharp turn away, panic bubbling inside of him. What does he do? What _can_ he do?

And as quick as it started, it all stops, ending with Viktor standing in the middle of the ice, eyes wide. He doesn’t really know what to do beyond leave the ice like he did yesterday, unsure of what sort of thing his mind was spinning for him.

Viktor and Yakov sit side by side, waiting for his score. A score Viktor isn’t sure of what will be. While he knows he didn’t fall during the program, throughout it all, he had been completely zoned out. He has no idea how he did, or even _what_ he did on a certain level.

Right as the announcer says his score, Yakov lays a heavy hand on Viktor’s shoulder, causing him to jump. Quickly, he tries to hide it by turning to Yakov with a smile. He gets 178.83. It's not spectacular, but Chris won’t be able to top it with his own free skate. Viktor knows that where his name sits at the top of the board is where it will stay.

The smile is blank, emotionless. It slips away slowly.

 

Just as Viktor predicted, Chris isn’t able to break ahead of Viktor.

The podium isn’t the most new thing in the world, With Viktor on top, Chris to his right, and an American to his left. While some of the crowd has thinned by now, people having left to go back home, seats are still mostly filled as the medal ceremony starts to progress.

When Viktor leans down to accept his own gold, time seems to stop momentarily. His breathing slows and his mind runs blank as a single trickle of joy rushes down a metaphorical wire in him. Joy, replaced by happiness, pride, and everything that isn’t Viktor’s.

The medal slips over Viktor’s head, and he straightens up to stand tall. And the feeling is still there. For the first time all season, the smile that Viktor throws out to everybody is genuine. He wants to smile, actually feels like smiling, because, g-d, that feeling is still there. It’s still here, with him.

His soulmate is with him.

Even as the ceremony progresses further and further, they stay with him. 

It’s euphoric.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayo, feel free to check me out on tumblr where my url is @nathanchcn, or, for easier access, it's shaolinfantastic.co.vu i post a lot of yuuri on ice shit on there (and by that i mean i rb a shit ton of fanart) and have some figure skating shit (which will probably increase now that i have mastered the gif making ability). i also just like to talk to people, so you can totally hmu over there or some shit.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the school year is approaching (full day of school on Thursday and then a single test on Friday) and I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with myself afterwards. School brings me structure (and stress) and like.... what do I do without that??

The Russian Nationals pass, along with the Europeans, both slipping through time for Viktor. He wants to believe that his soulmate is watching, but he’s not entirely sure - the lack of any emotion around the events suggest that they weren’t there to see them, probably in favour of them doing something else, something better, with their time. And that’s okay. Viktor doesn’t expect them to drop everything for him, but it is still slightly disheartening to skate when they aren’t there to see.

Viktor wants to bring back his free skate from the Olympics and last year’s Worlds for this year’s upcoming World Championship, but he knows that bringing up the idea would be pointless. Not only would Yakov resists the idea, but Viktor himself is already rejecting it. Sure, it’s easier to skate, to connect to, but it wouldn’t fit with his short program. Plus, there’s no real surprise in bringing back an old program.

But it feels good to skate it.

More often than not, if Yakov isn‘t watching him at practice, Viktor is running through it, the music playing in his head as he continuously changes his steps, change his dance, as he sees fit.

It calms him down.

Viktor knows the program is far from perfect in just about every aspect of it, including the chosen song, but it’s special to him. Nobody can take it away from him, take away its meaning. The program is his and his soulmate’s alone; while others can watch it, none can truly have it beyond the two of them. Sure, anybody can try and recreate it, reskate it, but nobody will be able to do it like Viktor, with as much feeling and depth as he brings to it.

It’s his program, forever his program. It’s his outreach to his soulmate, to let them now that he’s here; that he’s here and wants them, and will do all for them. So it doesn’t matter whether or not Viktor is using the program in competition. He’ll never stop skating it.

 

“I want my theme for the next season to be longing.”

Yakov looks at Viktor with an expression that the latter can’t quite read. Maybe it’s annoyance because Viktor isn’t practicing, and is instead leaning against the rink’s walls to get closer to Yakov. Or maybe it’s confusion. Indifference? For all Viktor knows, he could could also just be semi-ignoring him.

When Yakov continues to not say anything, Viktor decides that he may as well speak some more. “I already have a song I want to use for my free skate. Stammi Vicino - but I’m not sure what I should do for my short program,” he says, voice drifting off near the end as he tries to run songs through his head.

“Vitya,” Yakov finally sighs, running a hand over his face. Yakov doesn’t seem angry, just… tired. Which isn’t so unusual, but it’s not what Viktor was expecting.

“Yes, Yakov?” Viktor asks, standing up straight.

“Can you maybe get through the Worlds before you start to throw things for next season at me?”

Well that’s no fun, Viktor thinks. It’s not like he’s suddenly going to forget what he needs for the upcoming competition or something as equally ridiculous. Besides, Yakov should be happy that Viktor knows what he wants to do. This current season has been a near disaster because of Viktor’s difficulties on theme and interpretation, so Yakov should be celebrating the fact that this next season won’t be some terrible repeat.

“I’m just throwing ideas around,” Viktor says, looking briefly on the ice where Milla is practicing some spins.

Yakov steals his face into his normal stern looking, almost-glare state. ”Well you can throw ideas around after you win gold at Worlds - which won’t happen unless you get out there and practice!” he huffs, pointing out to the ice.

Viktor rolls his eyes, but complies with the silent order, going to an opposite end of the rink to practice away from Milla and Yakov.

Longing. It was easy for Viktor to decide the theme, especially with how this season has gone. The only thing that seems to follow him is longing, in some way, shape, or form. It just makes sense for him to play off of it.

It’s been over a year since Viktor’s displayed his soulmark, over a year since he really started to _try_ in regards to his soulmate. Almost a year since he first tried to reach out to them, since he performed his program at Worlds and took a second gold medal off of it - almost a year since his soulmate’s feelings plagued him for nearly a week straight in anticipation for what Viktor can only assume to be _him_.

Viktor longs for more. He longs for his soulmate, to be able to hold them close and try to make their life as good as possible, to be able to make them smile and hear them laugh.

That’s what Viktor longs for. That’s what Viktor wants to skate for.

 

Chris is at Worlds, of course. Despite Viktor’s odd behaviour at the Grand Prix Final, the two had quickly gotten together again at the European Championship to make up for the lost time, and now at Worlds, they’re practically inseparable again.

Viktor remembers when, years ago, people - tabloids, mostly - speculated about whether or not he and Christophe were in some sort of secret, behind-the-scenes relationship with how close they usually were when together. Despite denials from both skaters and their coaches, the rumour continued to spread until Chris good-naturedly showed everybody his soulmate to finally shut everybody up about the issue.

Viktor had initially wanted to get mad about the whole situation and lack of privacy they were allowed, but he also could - and still can - see where they were coming from. Both Chris and Viktor are very affectionate people, and being close friends allows for their comfort zones to easily stretch around each other. Chris invades Viktor’s space in a way that must look a little too out of place, and Viktor readily accepts it and will often times do the same to the other skater, the two working like a well oiled machine while together. Viktor doesn’t see anything wrong with what they do; they both know where their limits are and when to back off.

Sometimes Viktor thinks that life would have been a lot easier if he and Chris could have just ended up getting together, if they were soulmates. But at the same time, Viktor is happy with what they have now. Chris is Viktor’s biggest confident, matching mark or not, and Viktor feels that things might have turned out a bit different had they turned out to be each other’s soulmates.

Besides, Chris has too much fun trying to wiggle his way into the loop on Viktor’s “love life” as he calls it. Viktor would never want to deny him the fun of that.

“What are you thinking of, Viktor?”

Viktor lifts his head to look at Chris, who’s sitting across from him in the small cafe that Viktor had decided to go to. Normally, Viktor wouldn’t tell somebody that he was thinking about what life would be like if they were together, but considering this is Christophe Giacometti, he’s not about to shy away from it. Worse things have been said between the two.

“Oh, just about how great of a couple we would have made if we were to have ever dated,” Viktor says, forcing a wistful tone to his voice.

Chris hums, nodding his head. “That would have been something, no? We would have been the best looking couple in the entire world, I think. But alas, that’s exactly why we just couldn’t have turned out. The world just isn’t ready to that sort of thing. We’d be too powerful.”

“Imagine all the broken hearts,” Viktor muses, smiling at the thought of the thousand of people who somehow thought they ever had a chance with either of them when they found out that Chris and he were together.

Man, Chris really is lucky to have found his soulmate when he did. Viktors ninety-nine percent sure that he still has a hoard of said fans that just won't give up, think that they’re made for him, meant for him, even after he revealed his soulmark….

Chris, of course, seems to be following his thoughts perfectly. “Imagine all of the broken hearts when you find your soulmate,” he says, smiling in a way that almost looks evil. “The most eligible bachelor of the skating world, swooped away. They will all be crushed to see you finally off the market.”

“Oh please, I’m sure there will still be fanatics who’ll think that they're made for me,” Viktor grumbles.

But that'll only become an issue when Viktor finds his soulmate. _If_ he finds them.

Their emotions are more regular now with Viktor, but he’s still been too scared to reach out again, afraid that he’ll get another negative reaction. They must know who he is - there’s no way at this point that they don’t - yet Viktor continues to be left in the dark on just who they are. Viktor won’t push, through. He doesn’t want to impose on them or their life.

“It's really sad how easy it is to tell when you’re thinking about them, you know,” Chris says, waving a hand in front of Viktor’s eyes. Viktor blinks in shock, shaking his head slightly. “You okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Viktor responds without thinking. “Just thinking about Worlds, really. After last time…. Do you think that they’ll watch again? Maybe even approach me this year or something? I really don’t get out enough to find them on my own, and I feel bad putting it all on them to find me, but unless they’re another skater by some miracle, I’ll probably never actually see them without them taking first action.”

“I think they’ll watch again. You’re quite captivating when you skate, after all.”

“Hm, they did seem pretty happy at last year’s Worlds,” Viktor muses. “But then again, I didn’t feel anything else from them when it came to other competitions, until the Grand Prix Final came around, so there’s nothing saying they really follows me specifically. Or even figure skating a a whole. They very well may have just seen my name and been drawn in by that, and only that. Wh-”

“You talk a lot, Viktor,” Chris says, throwing a flimsy napkin at Viktor. “And besides, Worlds start in four days, so you’ll be finding out soon enough anyways.” A pause. “Any weird feelings this go around?”

Viktor shakes his head, picking up the napkin to toy with it. “Nothing, sadly,” he says. “Well, they seemed really happy earlier today.”

“Not what I was asking about, Viktor.”

Viktor smiles brightly at Chris. “Of course you were not, but I wanted to say it anyways. I like when they’re happy.”

Now Viktor is thinking. Will his soulmate even be watching him this time around? Does he even know when the Worlds are? Viktor wants nothing more than to have them watching him, but he’s not sure it’s such a realistic expectation that they’ll even see him. Viktor knows that figure skating isn’t the most followed sport.

“You’re drifting again,” Chris pouts. “Am I really that boring to you?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Viktor says seriously. “You must be the most boring man from Switzerland that I have ever had the mispleasure of getting something to drink with.”

Chris raises a hand to his chest. “Viktor, I am hurt!” he gasps.

Viktor sticks his tongue out at Chris, a sparkle in his eyes as he throws Chris’ napkin back to him. He wouldn't give this up for anything.

 

Viktor pushes himself hard in the final days leading up to the competition, ready to keep his name attached to an undeniably large image. Now is far from being the right time to suddenly fall short somehow. And with the difficulties he's had, he can't afford to risk anything. His schedule slowly dissolves into practice and rest, little time left in between for interacting with other skaters. 

Finally, the final day before the competition arrives. Viktor is on edge - this time, all on his own - at the prospect of his soulmate being there to see him. He wants them to watch, wants them to see him. He wants to talk to them and feel them close to him. He wants to reach out to them.

The night before the short programs, Viktor pushes hope through the small wire connecting him with his soulmate.

He gets a hesitant touch of hope back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, fuck, I was looking at these blades, Pattern 99 Revs, and they were just!! I want them, good lord, but then I saw the price and I legit can't afford it. There's "I can't afford it" where I could technically afford it, I just would have Very Little Money Left, and then there's "I Can't Afford It" where I actually don't have the money for it, the price is higher than what I have in my bank account, and I Can't Afford Those Blades I am so devastated. They're 600$ but I waaaaant them :(


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy pride month folks
> 
> i'm gay, viktor's gay, yuuri's gay. just a small pool of gay boys on the ice. 
> 
> friendly reminder that johnny weir is indeed one of the largest gay icons to exist. g-d bless his soul and his chandelier program despite the horrible video quality there is of it.

Viktor’s short program sits just below the one hundred point mark. And he’s okay with that - more than okay with that. He long ago gave up on perfect scores for this season. His exhibition skates have honestly been better than anything else, but again, that’s okay with him.

He watches Chris skate, the other man’s music dancing along Viktor’s mind, right alongside his own upbeat attitude. His soulmate, as far as Viktor can tell, is riding with him on the same line, their emotions nearly perfectly coinciding with Viktor’s. Things are good.

Hell, things are great.

By the end of the day, Viktor is in third place. While Yakov is a bit put off by it, Viktor is too busy soaring to care. He’s on a high that he’s getting all too addicted to, the high of being able to feel close to his soulmate. Nothing can replace this feeling. Nothing can come close to even matching it.

Chris notices Viktor’s mood that night when they go out to eat, but doesn’t say anything about it, allowing Viktor to enjoy himself for a bit longer.

A day passes, and while his soulmate isn’t with him constantly, Viktor notices them on and off all throughout the day on a level that he doesn’t remember ever feeling. It’s like the previous drift had never happened with the sudden strength of their bond. All of Viktor's worries that had plagued him disappear in their presence.

He’s invincible. Well, Viktor feels that way, at least. No matter what happens, he can’t be knocked down. Not now.

 

  
The free skate approaches quick, and while Yakov is concerned with Viktor going above and beyond to continue his reign as the World Championship, Viktor can’t care less about how the day ends, as long as it’s with him not being alone. That’s what he truly wants.

Gold medals are glorious and pretty, but they fail to touch him deeply anymore. They’ve long ago lost the ability to bring any real excitement and thrill, now only regarded as something that just follows his skating. They’re just another fact of life for Viktor. He no longer dreams of being at the top of the podium; instead, his head is filled with the thoughts of him standing next to another person, a faceless, formless person that he can hold close and work in harmony with.

Hours until he’s set to skate are slowly eaten away until it’s only ten minute before the warm up is set to start, the block before him finishing up their own free skates. As the time slips away, Viktor’s left talking to Chris as Yakov moves on, the two friends smiling largely at each other as they move animatedly in their last minute conversation.

Finally, their block is up to practice, and the two split away.

Viktor does a final check of his skates, tightening them one last time, before heading to the ice.

Like during most of his practices, Viktor is struck with the want to skate his program from the end of last season, searching for the calming effect is tends to bring him. His mind is moving in a hazed, fast blur that he doesn’t understand, and so without much thought, he falls into the movements, lowering jumps into triples and doubles, dully aware of the bodies around him, the absent music running through his very being. It does its job of keeping Viktor on a level mindset as time wears on.

And despite Viktor’s recent attempts to stay in tune with his soulmate, through his fast moving thoughts, he misses the way a flare of shock and affection runs through him at the end of his run through. He misses the strong wave of want that runs through the small wire in his mind.

When Viktor’s done, he moves to a mostly unoccupied part of the rink to practice different elements of his actual free skate. 

The six minutes run out, bringing Vikor off of the ice. He’s set to go fourth today, so he motions Yakov that he’s going down to the waiting area. Yakov nods, and the two slowly make their way down the long hallways leading there.

 

Viktor smiles for the crowd, doing small circles near the center of the rink to make sure his balance is true. The three skaters before him have scores next to their names that Viktor knows he can best, so all he really needs to work to is a score that Chris and the second place American won’t be able to surpass. If things go right, that will also be more than manageable.

Once he’s positioned in the middle, the music starts. Viktor moves with it, falling back and to the side as he starts the familiar, stiff movements. As hopeless as this program has made him feel throughout the season, now, Viktor can’t help but feel hope - the hope that his soulmate will show up again for him here.

This time, he feels them. Viktor barely manages to keep a large smile from spreading across his face when they come to him, a subdued joy and wonder travelling between the two of them. It feels like it’s feeding him, pushing his arms and legs through the motions of the performance, telling him to go on.

Viktor continues to skate as his mind starts to run away on him. He basks in his soulmate’s presence and even as two minutes pass and fatigue starts to really drag down on him, he doesn’t stop. If he stops now, he risks disappointing his soulmate, risks losing this marvelous feeling, and not even hell freezing over could signal Viktor wanting that. So he pushes through because it doesn’t matter how much he dislikes this program, he’s now skating for the most important person he can think of, and they deserve his all.

His jumps are filled with power and energy that hasn’t been present before in this season, special care taken into proper landings. The minutes continue to drag by, two bleeding into three. Finally, after what manages to simultaneously be forever and no time at all, Viktor is pushing himself into his final steps, a few odd twizzles, before he bends into a spin that finishes off the program.

Viktor’s out of breath as he pulls himself upright, chest heaving as he tries to keep himself standing and to regain his breath. The crowd around him is loud with their applause, and Viktor lets a goofy grin fall across his own face as he feels awe wrap around him. When his legs don’t feel like the smallest movement will cause them to give out beneath him, Viktor moves off of the ice, waving his hands to everybody he can, smile never once leaving his face.

No words are exchanged between Yakov and him as they walk to the kiss and cry, which Viktor takes as a good sign. Normally, if Yakov wants to nag about something, he does it right as Viktor leaves the ice, so Viktor hopes that he did as well as he thought.

It doesn’t take too long for his scores to be displayed, and Viktor can’t help but be proud of them this time. While it’s still far way from being a personal best, this is for sure the highest he’s received for this set of programs, especially so with the free skate. It’s also in a range that Viktor knows will be difficult to top.

Cameras turn on Viktor, and he smiles sweetly for them, waving his hands again before he stands to go to the waiting area. He’s currently at the top of the scoreboard, so there’s no way for him to be knocked from the podium at this point in the race. He might as well get himself comfortable for the last two skaters.

His soulmate is still here, as well, and they’re happy. But it seems like an absent-minded happiness as time drags on. So as Viktor sits back in the couch, he turns his head to ignore the others around him in favour of trying to find his soulmate again. Three nights ago, when he sent out something to them, he got something in return. Hopefully, if he sends something now, they’ll react similarly.

Viktor doesn’t take time to think of just what he wants to try and give them. More on impulse than anything else, he makes an attempt to flood their link with his current mix of emotions - calm, hopefulness, happiness, even the boredom and frustrating anticipation, everything - letting nothing be held back. He wants to share his everything with them.

The response isn’t immediate, but when it comes, it feels like heaven. His own feelings are mixed together with an uncontrolled affection and adoration, the feeling all consuming, causing Viktor’s mind to run blank on all thoughts. Because it’s great, intoxicating, able to drown his very being. He never wants to stop feeling this way, and the longer it stays, the better it seems to feel.

The American misses the podium. Viktor doesn't notice.

In the switch betwen him and Chris, cameras fix on the room where Viktor sits with the two others who sits at the top with him, but Viktor is too absorbed to really care, to even think about anybody but the one person who’s managed to worm their way wholly into his heart without him ever having to meet them.

 

Viktor wins gold, with Chris to his left holding up bronze medal.

Yakov and he leave the arena as soon as possible, Viktor wanting nothing more than to be alone. Thankfully, Yakov isn’t too fond of the crowds following competitions, and doesn’t try and stop him from leaving.

After years of doing things like this with Yakov, no words needs to be exchanged as to what is expected, so they part ways silently in the hotel. Viktor knows what needs to do, know what is and isn’t allowed to happen between now and the gala later tonight. And so thankfully, with a small interview having already been done between the three with podium standings, Viktor really has nothing to worry about until night falls.

Which means he can just be alone.

When he gets to his room, Viktor is struck with the urge to speak with his soulmate, again reminding him of how he lacks the ability to do so. This just increases his want to see them, to interact with them in some way that involve words. Slowly, over the months and years, the urge has been increasing and increasing to the point that it near feels like a need to see them soon.

Soon.

Viktor hopes that it will be soon, at least. The longing is tangible for him, but he’s also aware of how out of control things are. There’s no way to predict just when he will be able to meet them for the first time, but the odds of it being anytime “soon” are so outweighed by those of him seeing them in what could be years.

That last idea hurts Viktor. He doesn’t think he can go years without seeing them, without talking to them, not after all the time he’s already had to wait. But with his life….

“G-d” Viktor groans, throwing a hand over his face. “Is it possible to miss a person without ever having met them?”

In the back of his mind is a soft, comforting touch. Viktor accepts the feeling, greedily allowing it to wash over him. They’re here. Right now, they’re here with him, even if not necessarily physically, and that’s all that matters. They’re here now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, thank you to all of you who comment on this fic. it makes my day to read them and talk to you like i'm just a small little nub behind a computer screen!!! you guys take the time out of your days to interact with me and the story and that means so much more to me than i could ever hope to explain <3


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao im having a complete breakdown so have a chapter!!
> 
> gonna be honest i didnt proofread this mostly because i cant concentrate in shit rn and im on mobile and it's like,,, yeah sorry for mistakes i will end up fixing them later

“Yakov, I want to work with my own theme this year.”

The problem with having an off season is that it worries Yakov more than it worries Viktor. Viktor knows he can bounce back - especially now - but Yakov seems under the impression that if he lets Viktor do his own thing, the whole situation will fall out of control, which is not the case.

“I don’t think that’s the best,” Yakov says.

And really, Viktor understands why Yakov is concerned, but it doesn’t make this situation any less frustrating. Viktor is a big boy, he knows what he’s doing, and Yakov’s doubt in him is starting to get a little too much. For years, Yakov has finally fully trusted Viktor with free reign over his programs, but now he’s suddenly snapping back into stubborn control? It’s just not fair, Viktor thinks.

“I already have idea, though,” Viktor pushes. And he does. He has more than a few ideas, none of which he fancies having to chuck in the garbage. If he has to try and work with another set of damn programs that he can’t connect to, he may just meet the end of his career a bit sooner than expected with a mighty fall from the top.

Yakov shakes his head at Viktor’s stubbornness, though. Or maybe it’s Yakov who’s being stubborn this time - Viktor really can’t tell. “Look, you and I both know how close to awful this previous season ended up being, Viktor.”

The use of his full name almost stings.

Almost.

Yakov rarely uses it, but when he does, it’s done in an obvious attempt to throw Viktor off. Even in the most pressing of times, Yakov will always show his support and backing of him in the slightest of ways, like giving him the familiarity of “Vitya”, and even though Yakov isn't the only person to call him this, it’s just what it is expected to be from his coach who’s presented himself as a parental figure over the long years. To hear him throw the term away is a rude tactic that Yakov never does unless he’s being difficult. But Viktor won’t let him win this battle. Not now.

“Let me have this one thing, please,” Viktor pleads.

Never before had he hated being in Yakov’s small office more than he does now.

“I already said no, and-”

“I can show you what I have for a free skate, and if you don’t like it, then I’ll do whatever it is that you want me to do.” It’s a risky move considering that the program is barely past a first, rough draft, but Viktor’s desperate. He needs to be able to do this. “I’ll even let you do the short program of this one, if you want. If you like the free skate, that is, of course. Just, please Yakov…. I’m twenty-six years old. I need this one thing. Tomorrow, let me show you what I have. At least look at what you want to reject.”

Viktor can see Yakov’s resolve break, slowly but surely, can even hear it as the older man lets out a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “But if I don’t like it, it’s being thrown away. No matter what.”

Viktor nods his head, smiling a little. “Thank you so much, Yakov.”

 

Somehow, Viktor is both confident and not. He knows that he has skill and can choreograph beautiful programs - history and gold medals show this - but the one he’s set to show Yakov is just so incomplete. It’s raw, messy, and, while it’s still good right now, it’s far from being ready for anything. Whether or not he uses it beyond this all comes down to if Yakov sees and trusts the incredible potential held in it, or if he sees an incomplete product to just turn down, incapable of improvement.

But Viktor wants to skate to this, more so than any other program he’s done, and that’s what worries him. What if Yakov does deny him? Then what? Viktor wouldn’t be able to do anything else. This is his program, the one he’s dreamed of skating for months now. Yakov tearing away his dreams would do nothing but cause what would likely be an irreversible slump in Viktor’s career. It’d be the end.

Just breath.

He has this. All he has to do is prove to Yakov that he has this, that letting him branch off of this idea is the best possible option. If he can lose himself into the program, it’ll all be okay. Everything will go fine, Yakov will see that he can work with this, and all will be okay.

Hopefully.

And it’s not like he, the Viktor Nikiforov, is known for making huge, monumental mistakes. Even when he’s not at his best, he still steals the show.

So he just needs to breath.

And feel.

Viktor has an hour alone on the ice before he’s set to do anything, an hour without Yakov or anybody else watching him. An hour to prepare before he must perform. An hour to lose himself enough to be ready.

For the first few minutes, he skates along the ice in a calm silence, the only sound that of his blades running along the ice, letting this mind be taken over by the addicting tune. To Viktor, that alone is music enough to satisfy. It has such a unique quality to it, unable to be replicated elsewhere. It’s part of what caused him to fall in love with skating all those years ago.

He keeps from doing anything too strenuous, mostly sticking to minor presentation elements more than anything. After all, it’s just a small warmup, some spins and twizzles being thrown in every other odd moment in his small laps.

It helps. A lot. Because even if Yakov shatters Viktor’s dreams and denies his program, he can’t take away this from him, can’t take away the ice. Nobody can do that.

Gradually, however, the stress does creep back. Viktor looks at the clock in the back of the rink corner and curses. Only forty minutes left. Quickly, he skates to the small exit of the ice and steps off. Now he needs to really work.

Viktor grabs his phone and makes his way to the large stereo system setup to hook everything up. While the silence is nice, he can’t risk anything today. He needs to be perfectly synced with the music if he wants to win his end of the deal today, and that means drowning himself in this until few other thoughts can cross his mind.

There’s a loud click that echoes through the room when the phone finally connects, an it’s followed soon after by the gentle sounds of a piano and what Viktor is pretty sure is a clarinet, the into of his chosen song flowing through the large room.

Once he’s sure that the song is set on repeat, Viktor returns to the ice, ready to start working on the program now that the soothing melody of “Stay Close to Me” is running through him.

Viktor quickly finds himself near the inner part of the ice, letting his feet and body lazily get a feel for the song. It takes no time at all for him to slowly meld into it, his own mind starting to surrender to what led him to the song in the first place, his mind falling to a more constructive mode.

When he feels comfortable enough, Vitor starts working on some jumps. He starts small - a double axel, a triple flip, a quad toe-loop - gradually working his way up. He doesn’t have too terribly many quads planned for this program, his stamina far from being what it used to be, but which ones he’s going to use he’s still not sure. Obviously he’ll incorporate a quad flip into the routine, but beyond that? It’s an open end for him. He’s mostly ron between if he should choose between a Lutz or a Salchow, or do both. The problem with that is Viktor isn’t the most solid when it comes to Lutzes, so if he is going to do that, it’d have to be right at the beginning, and whether or not he can work that in is yet to be decided. And toe-loops are alway simple to throw in, so worst case scenario he throws one in somewhere with a combination, and he can probably still pull off a decently large triple axle in the end if he works hard enough.

Of course, other triples and combination also need to be figured out. And what spins to use.

While he doesn’t want the program to be lacking on technically elements, there’s still something in him that reminds him to not turn this into some sort of show of nuclear extravagance. It’s not what this is about, after all.

So maybe he can scrap the quad Lutz and just use a triple in a combination later on in the program. There’s a spot he can already see is noticeably lacking where he can shove something like that in anyways.

Viktor works hard to build his dance, his cry for companionship. Ideas and thoughts move through his mind fast, changing his movements on a second’s notice as he moves to work with it.

Finally, with ten minutes before Yakov is set to come, Viktor pauses, tired. He needs a small break, not completely trusting himself to function properly if he goes too fast into what he has so far.

After turning the music off, pitching the rink into silence once more, Viktor sits and waits, trying to just keep calm.

About ten minutes pass before Yakov walks in, trailed by the young Yuri Plisetsky. He’s fourteen now, if Viktor remembers, and everything about him looks it, from his eyes, which are glued to his phone screen in utter disinterest for everything, to his barely controlled hair. And his clothes…. Viktor may not be an expert on teen fashion, but there is no way that what he is wearing can come close to being seen as fashionable. Nobody wears that much animal print nowadays, do they?

“Yuri, go sit down,” Yakov orders, pointing to the small set of stands alongside the ice.

Yuri barely glances at Yakov before he groans and walks to where he’s instructed to go. So he also has an attitude to go along with it all. These next few years should be just wonderful, Viktor thinks.

Just as Yuri sits, Viktor stands, long and slow. No need to really rush things.

“The music is on my phone. Stay Close to Me,” he says, beginning the short walk to the ice.

“That sounds super lame,” Yuri shouts, and Viktor almost - _almost_ \- stops his movement to say something back. But he doesn’t. Let the kid be yelled at by somebody who isn’t him.

“Shut up, Yuri!” Like Yakov. “Unless you’re asked to speak, you keep your mouth shut here.”

Viktor’s right blade hits the ice, and then his left, and he’s flying.

Yakov is about as patient as judges are, and Viktor knows he has little time before he’s faced with the start of his music again. He takes what little time he has to fall back into what’s now become an overly natural feeling. After all, if Yakov doesn’t see him connecting with this, he’s done for.

So Viktor does what he’s best at, feels what he knows best.

He longs.

What does he long for? His soulmate. Skating. Life. A meaning. Something to fill the steadily growing hole which invaded his life ten years ago that, until relatively recently, he’s tried his hardest to ignore. He longs for a future, a good one, where he isn’t alone and doesn't feel like the meaning of life is uncontrollably slipping away from him.

Viktor longs for love.

The first, familiar note hits Viktor’s ears, his mind, and he moves. Everything around him melts away, leaving only the ice, himself, and the invisible figure of his soulmate that stands alongside him to create his dance.

As he reaches out for his partner, willing them to take his hand and trust him, his mind follows suit. The all consuming want runs through his entire being, radiating in both motions and thoughts, and just as Viktor pulls his phantom soulmate close, an answering call is sent to him. His skating almost falters as the shockingly raw, sad, hopeful feeling is returned to him, but Viktor stays afoot, a new sense of urgency introducing itself to his steps.

Viktor invites his soulmate’s feelings full-heartedly, pulling them close to himself, taking comfort in the presence. No matter where Viktor is, or what he is doing, he’ll always have somebody. The strengthened connection between he and his soulmate has only served to allow Viktor to grow. Now, more than ever, he can't believe that he once tried to push this away.

He was a fool, but these upcoming months will be his chance to make things right. He’s determined to keep them close in any way he is granted, no matter the physical distance between them. He can only hope that his soulmate will accept this, that they won’t let go of him.

With them alongside him, Viktor continues on, soaring across the ice in a slightly unorganized jumble of choreography as he dances around someone who isn’t there. Nothing can penetrate his little world that he’s created, leaving him to do what he knows best. To skate.

When the music finally comes to a close, Viktor pushes his arms out, one final act to beacon his partner to him. One final act to beg them to stay close to him.

Viktor comes back to reality with the quick, furious sound of clapping. He turns his head and sees Yuri, still sitting in the stands with a leg propped dup, head raised as he singularly applauds Viktor. Viktor smiles at him, bowing dramatically in his direction.

“You really did well in conveying how much of a lonely loser you are,” Yuri says, lifting his head in recognition. Viktor just shakes his head, amused at the younger boy.

“Yuratchka!” Yakov shouts. “What did I say about talking earlier?”

Viktor quickly waves his hands at Yakov, shaking his head. “No! No!” he says quickly. “It’s good, Yakov, it’s all good. That means I did well. I think.”

Yuri smiles - or, more, Viktor thinks he’s smiling - while nodding his head. “See, at least one old man here can understand me, unlike some other losers.” Viktor can only imagine what would happen if Yakov were to run this kid through Lilia like he used to do with all of his skaters before the divorce. She’d probably eat him alive with his behaviour.

Yakov grumbles something to himself before turning his attention to Viktor The look in his eyes has Viktor straightening his back. It’s back to business.

“Well, as long as you can manage to skate the routine well through the entire season, it’s good,” he says. Viktor’s eye widen at the words. He can do it. Yakov just said that he can do this. “Now you just need to get something to start to work with for the short program. No matter how wonderful a free skate, you won’t be able to do shit without something leading to it.”

“Of course,” Viktor grees quickly, moving to the edge where Yakov is, almost hugging his coach as excitement starts to spark in him.

The biggest problem Viktor has faced so far is that he has no idea what it is that he wants to do for a short program, however. Every time he has tried to think about it, his entire process just seemed to disappear from his mind, leaving him blank with nothing to work with.

As he tries to think about it again, to give Yakov something, there’s another feint something pressing in the back of his mind. His soulmate, still lingering about.

And, wow, doesn’t that make things a bit easier. “How about something a bit more along the lines of love?” Viktor suggests. “Of course, it’ll still be a longing sort of love, but it’ll be like a two day performance for me - a story. I fall in love on the first day with the short program, and on the second day, the day of my free skate, I’m chasing after that love, longing to always hold it close. Or something like that.”

In the background, Viktor can hear Yuri making fake gagging noises, but Yakov smiles. Praise. “I’m sure something can be worked out with that. It’s not a terrible idea.”

As a large smile spread across Viktor’s face, he can’t help but want his soulmate close, to tell them that all that he’s doing is for them and show them what he has. He wants them to know just how they’ve influenced him, continue to influence him, how they guide him and inspire him.

He wants to show them just how much he loves them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh i just love when i go out of state to visit my dad and three days into seeing him my mom calls me yelling and screaming at me telling me that she's going to go through my entire room and all my stuff and will throw away anything that isn't important in her eyes like lmao way to make me wanna die pal
> 
> i was smart enough to bring my skates with me because this isn't the first time she's thrown away over half of what i own just because oh she can and im not there to stop her and defend myself and i dont think i could live if those were thrown but it still does feel :))) really great you know!! i wish i could just never go back there lmao like what i would give to never have to see my mom again and never have to deal with her and have her interact with me oooh boy


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who finally has access to a laptop again (hint: it's me) g-d bless america
> 
> guess who is totally going to be going to the uni of hawaii
> 
> it's me (as in i basically??? meet all the criteria like i havent taken the sat yet but i've surpassed the act score largely, am a good stupid, but the school has like an 80% acceptance rate so like,,,,, please let me into your astrophysics department)
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO: if you're looking for random ass shit to read and like viktuuri you should check out my fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11337753) it's actually kinda really adorable and gay so ://

Yakov manages to be the one who finds the music that Viktor uses for his short program. It’s not exactly what Viktor had been imagining at first, but it still works fantastically, he thinks. And Yakov agrees.

It’s been a long while since Viktor’s been this excited about skating. He feels something grand sits on the horizon of his life, and he’s ready to run - or skate - to it. He looks forward to mornings and practices, to working on his program and seeing as the young Yuri Plisetsky grows himself into a momentous force. Despite the calm simplicity of the “off” season, Viktor finds that life is just a bit more enjoyable than he remembers.

Of course, there are the times where he’s scheduled for some exhibition or another. After all, he is Viktor Nikiforov, and people want him, but now that he actually has some semblance of what exactly it is that he’s doing, he doesn’t dread any of this. Hell, he looks forward to all the times somebody calls in wondering if it’d be possible to get him to skate in an event, hoping that, by some stroke of luck, his soulmate will see it.

His soulmate, who really is just a nervous person. But that’s okay. Viktor always tries his hardest to help them along when necessary, but, lord, Viktor doesn’t understand how one person can be just so anxious. He just wants to hold them close and quell all of their worries - every single last one, no matter how many there seem to be.

 

Whatever small barrier may have been left in place between Viktor and his soulmate seems to completely dissolve as the weeks roll by. More and more, Viktor’s catching small bits of what could be seen as the most irrelevent emotions - not that Viktor thinks he could ever actually think of any of his soulmate's emotions as such. Sometimes, in the middle of practice, Viktor will just feel an unexplainable sort of annoyance, something so small Viktor is sure musty be the result of his mind trying its hardest to remember some small inconvenience from earlier on in the day. But it leaves just as it comes, with no explanation, and Viktor concludes the most logical thing: the feelings simply aren’t his to understand.

And if Viktor’s is catching even the smallest flashes of his soulmate, than his soulmate must be receiving similar things from him. Right? It seems like a logical conclusion, and more and more often, Viktor’s left to wonder just what they must think of him.

Viktor knows he’s moody. He’s a figure skater, moodiness practically runs in his blood alongside the whole dramatic trait that also tends to haunt all who find their homes dancing stop the ice. So sometimes - a lot of time - he has extreme mood swings, or he feels a little bitter just because he can, or there are even days that he’s so giddy he can barely sit still because a particular piece of inspiration and good feeling hits him in regards to his skating. He himself knows absolutely no pattern in what runs through him, and he really do shope that his soulmate is smart enough to not wonder about what the hell is going on with him.

After all, it’s not like the outbursts are rare. If they try to figure anything out about them, they’re just going to be wasting their time looking at an answerless question.

Never once does Viktor stop to think that, just maybe, some of his increased moodiness may link back to just who he’s busy worrying about.

Yuri Plisetsky’s hair manages to fix itself from the last time Viktor remembers having to not make some bad comment on how the younger skater couldn’t continue on with such a hairstyle. And as soon as Viktor notices the improvement, he makes quick work of advising the kid to just let his hair grow out.

By some miracle, Yuri seems to listen.

 

Viktor’s assigned to the Trophée Éric Bompard and the Rostelecom Cup.

By the time he's in Bordeaux, a good portion of Russians and some outside people have seen his new program in the smaller, local competition he skates in, but outside of those who came to watch him live, it still looks like the skating world has yet to get a full view of what he’s doing.

It’s exciting, Viktor thinks. He loves surprising the audiences, finds it exhilarating, and this set of programs is something that he think can send one last ripple through the crowds gathering to watch him. If this is the last thing he’s going to show the world on a competitive level, at least it will be a good last thing, something that will allow him to go down in glorious flames.

When Viktor takes the first step onto the ice in the six minute warm-up period before short program, he can practically feel the cameras on him. And it feels good.

He also feels a familiar, near-sickening punch of nerves to his gut that he has to sift through and push to the side. Viktor’s not really frustrated by these things anymore, more than used to his soulmate’s incredibly inopportune timing, but he does spend less time and effort on trying to ease said nerves than normal. He needs to focus on skating and now, with other people on the ice like this, all lost in their own movements, he needs to stay aware. He trains on the ice with large amounts of people and knows just how easy it is for an accident to occur if even one person loses too much of themself.

However, as soon as the warm-up ends and Viktor is left to wait for his turn, scheduled to go second in his block, he finds a relatively secluded area and sits in it. He only has a few minutes max, so he gets right to work in sending every bit of calm and comfort he can to his soulmate. He needs them to be calm. No matter how much he loves his programs, he needs his concentration to actually perform them. He can’t allow himself to turn into a robot again.

Viktor’s efforts only work to an extent, but it’s better than nothing. He feels minorly on edge as he steps back onto the ice, Yakov giving him one last hand squeeze and good luck, but it’s not as bad as before, which is good. At least now he can think. He makes some small circles to try and shake the rest of it off to the best of his ability, but after that, he sets himself in the middle. There's nothing he can do now.

Viktor’s outfit is mostly black with some grey streaks running down his back and along his arms, and when Viktor settles himself into his starting position, his entire upper body is set alight in shimmers.

La Vie En Rose. The song is full of colour, but also life, and it’s that second aspect that’s meant to be captured here. The movement of his body will ignite beauty, life, love, to dance across him with the music.

The first notes play, and on cue, Viktor moves back, trailing his hands across his chest, holding something close.

While Viktor skates, the nerves still race across his mind, intertwining with gentle wonder that shifts into anticipation as Viktor moves into the turns leading into his first jump.

A quad flip.

He lands it and smiles, moving on with the performance, with the song, as it continues on. But even as the clapping around him die off, the happy, excited feeling that followed him into the jump remains as the final bits of near suffocating nerves dissolve. The song drags on, drawing a quad Lutz out of him, the jump barely landed, and despite the noticeable misstep in the landing, his soulmate doesn’t seem disappointed. In fact, they feel elated as he manages to keep himself up.

The second half closes in, and Viktor welcomes it with a step sequence. It’s nothing too intricate, his upper body moving more than his lower body it almost seems like, but it’s enough to flow with the song in a way that Viktor feels fit perfectly with that the program means to him,

As Viktor falls into a spin, he wonders if maybe his soulmate speaks French. Would they understand exactly what the song behind him is? Viktor himself is fluent in the language, largely influenced by his friendships with Christophe and the now retired Stéphane Lambiel. When Yakov offered the song, Viktor was surprised with having lyrics behind him, but they quickly proved to match the occasion. Would his soulmate understand, or would the meanings of the words be lost on their ears, an unknown, foreign language singing out unknown ideas of love. Viktor long ago concluded that, whoever his soulmate is, they aren’t Russian, but maybe they’re French or Swiss. Or neither. Perhaps they don’t speak French - or Russian - but instead English, or even Korean.

His final jump approaches, a combination, and Viktor drags his mind away from that. He needs to focus on this for just a few more moments.

A silent turn in the music throws Viktor up for the planned triple Salchow. This he lands cleanly, allowing him to move into the triple toe-loop with ease. But something happens in the air, something Viktor isn’t quite sure of, and when he comes down from the jmp, he misses the landing completely, ending up hitting the ice hard with his side instead of with his blade.

Unfazed, Viktor pushes himself back up, entering into a momentary spread eagle to transition into an Ina Bauer. The mistake isn’t the worst thing in the world, especially after landing the Salchow and still (hopefully) getting enough rotations in on the toe-loop, so he does his best to ignore it for now. The end of the program is near and he can’t change what he’s already done; he’ll see the consequences of the mishap soon enough.

His right leg comes up behind him, and Viktor takes hold of his blade, flowing into another spin. As he loses momentum, he lets go and falls down into a sit spin before catching his free blade on the ice, bringing himself back up. The music starts to close and Viktor catches himself in slowing down, ending with one arm slightly outstretched, hand and arm pointing down to the ice.

Flowers rain down on Viktor as the stadium erupts with blaring noise. Inside, Viktor feels a large surge of joy and affection and adoration. While his hands are open as he waves to the crowd, his heart clutches onto the feeling as he skates off the ice to meet Yakov. Quickly, he grabs his blade guards before allowing himself to be ushered to the kiss and cry.

Yakov speaks next to Viktor, probably saying something about his fall, or maybe even his flawed Lutz, but it falls on deaf ears as Viktor concentrates fully on his soulmate, They have to be watching, and just the thought of that is enough to make him feel like he is soaring. Right now, their eyes are on him. It doesn't even matter that he can't see them right now; all that's important is that they're somehow connected beyond just feelings for once.

Connected.

His soulmate can see him....

When the crowd around him erupts again, bringing his attention to the fact that the camera must be back on him, he throws his hands into a heart shape with little thought, flooding his connection with affection matching what he’s receiving. Almost instantly, excitement and shock rushes through him. A goofy smile sets itself on Viktor’s face, unable to be controlled. It's not perfect contact, but it's something, and for that, Viktor is happy. They saw him and finally, _finally_ , he was able to give back to them, to acknowledge them.

Viktor takes little notice to his score - 93.68 after a one point deduction - too focused on his other half, on just floating on their shared pool of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also guess who is being reckless and going to buy 250$ skates
> 
> hint: that's also me what a surprise
> 
> im also trying to convince my mom to let me go to skate canda still ok 4 hours away in regina but it's in canada not america bUT IT'S SO CLOSE ok and shoma uno will be there and idk if any of yall follow me on tumblr but uh i do this thing called loving shoma uno???? so like YOU KNOW plus patrick chan and karen chen will be there AND JASON BROWn and anna pogorilaya AND FUCKING MARIN HONDA (why is she not up there with shoma and patrick smh)
> 
> but marin and shoma are both using turandot for their free skate????? so urteriei shoma probably in his green little leprauchon outfit skating to turandot and then marin in her amazing (wonderful, gorgeous, super pretty, flawless, etc.) red costume i saw it and cried she will also be skating to turandot (IT IS SO PRETTY I WATCHED IT AND I LITERALLY COULD NOT LOOK AWAY FROM THE SCREEN HOLY HECK) and so canada will be destroyed by turandot lmao


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok some notes???
> 
> 1) there may be an oddish?? kinda writing style near the beginning sorry
> 
> 2) see the end for this one actually i dont want to spoil everything ok

After Viktor is one of two Frenchmen assigned to the Trophée, and then an American, but their faces and names blur, moving into one. He feels a little bad about it, especially since he knows a these people, but it's hard to concentrate.

The initial joy of the competition and presence of his soulmate quickly gives way to the nerves he so desperately tried to get rid of earlier. The only good thing is that, now, Viktor doesn’t have to worry about performing. But he's still aware of the way the cameras are still going to be flying to him every now and then, and there’s no way that he's keeping everything off of his face and out of his body language. He can only hope nothing big comes from it, that he's not going to have to deal with huge speculations on “just what is bothering Viktor Nikiforov”, or whatever the hell it is that people say about these sorts of things.

But the nerves. Viktor has felt anxiety from his soulmate before, but this is on a completely different level. Viktor’s vision is nearly swimming as his stomach turns. He feels lost in it all, unable to concentrate enough to even try and help calm them down this time. It all feels impossible, like he's drowning and unable to do anything but let himself go under.

Quite frankly, Viktor feels like shit. He can’t even concentrate on any of the scores being thrown up, barely recognizing how his own name continues to sit at the top of the scoreboard for now.

Finally, it’s down to the last skater.

The impending sense of doom and failure continues to rise and rise, and Viktor is left frozen to his seat as the name “Yuuri Katsuki” is called is called. And the name sounds vaguely familiar. The same first name as Yuri Plisetsky.

Yuri Plisetsky, who called Viktor brave. Yuri Plisetsky who easily insults him and rolls his eyes around him, but also manages to be nervous around Viktor, nervous behind the fiery attitude, nervous with the darting eyes and not so confident, ready to run look about him.

Yuri Plisetsky, who, in his own way, said he likes Viktor’s new routines and would probably be spitting absolute fire if he were to see the state that Viktor is in, ready to, in his own way, try and bring him up and out of it all, remind Viktor just who he is and what he can do.

It’s enough to drag Viktor to the surface momentarily, giving him enough time to take hold of the damn suffocating feelings running through him. And he grabs on tight to them, sifting through all the negative and trying to dissolve it. He doesn’t think he really has the energy to try and actually send any positive feedback to his soulmate, but he can at least try and take away the bad.

Above Viktor, a screen shows Yuuri Katsuki slowly moving away from the wall. He almost looks familiar, but Viktor isn’t sure where from. Maybe a different event last year? Somewhere for sure, though. Viktor has seen him somewhere.

He’s also seen the same pale look on his face, and the same trembling of hands, things normally reserved for younger skaters and those new to the scene. That needs to be gotten under control for Yuuri’s own sake, Viktor thinks.

Not that he really has much room to talk right now. He’s having troubles trying to fix his own - well, his soulmate’s own - bundle of nerves; he should not be saying anything about anybody else’s issues with them.

It’s a bit frustrating, actually. Viktor finds it rather easy to lower some of the stress, but almost immediately after he does, more pops up, often times even stronger and more persistent than before as his soulmate’s anxious tension continues to rise, seemingly never peaking.

Yuuri Katsuki is breathing _fast_ , eyes widened ever so slightly as his fingers twist in their positions above his head. Viktor feels bad for him.

Viktor feels bad for his soulmate. He can’t imagine the position they must be in to feel this way. He hopes they’re safe, that somebody else is there to try and comfort them beyond the rather ineffective job Viktor himself is doing.

Yuuri Katsuki is moving now, and despite how he looked before, his movements seem steady enough - almost confident. There's just the slightest bit of hesitancy to it all, but it's barely noticeable, likely to not be picked up by an untrained eye. And when he throws himself into the air for a quadruple toe-loop - and lands it - the performance almost changes instantly, Yuuri Katsuki seemingly a it more sure of himself suddenly.

Viktor’s efforts seem to finally pay off. He can feel the extreme nerves slowly give way, and he uses the opportunity to give his soulmate assurance. Strength and assurance to pull through just whatever it is that is causing them distress on such a massive scale. While he can’t hold them like he so longs to, he can at least make sure they know that he's here for them. He will always be there for them, wants to never again be faced with being near helpless in the face of their distress, or in any way distant from them.

Viktor almost expects Yuuri Katsuki to have two jumping passes placed in the second half with how time drags on, and how Yuuri Katsuki seems nearly unaffected by what looks to be a rigorous routine. But, just seconds before the opening for the second half arrives, Yuuri jumps again, beating out a double Salchow - the jump quite noticeably popped from what was sure meant to be a quad - and a triple toe-loop. And it’s a shame that he couldn’t hold out on the jump, because he definitely could have given himself the bragging rights of having a large pass like that plus a third one to be shoved right in the back of a program.

And now Viktor's feeling dread and disappointment from his soulmate where, just before, there was a sort of accomplishment. It’s a self-draining critique of themself, a let down with worry and anxiety again.

Viktor doesn’t want them to spiral back down, not again. He pushes what little odd sense of hope and overall pride their way, trying his hardest to let them being themself up off of his own small elation, to maybe spark their own positive reactions.

It seems to maybe work.

If Yuuri Katsuki’s slip up threw him off in any way, he doesn’t let it show. Viktor’s thoughts of him being new to larger competitive skating seems to be proven wrong as he carries on, not letting any of what was showing right before the beginning of the program leak through into it now, where judges are watching with sharp eyes for any places to deduct in any area they can give lower points with presentation.

More time stretches on, and suddenly Viktor is thinking maybe Yuuri Katsuki won’t actually go for a third jumping pass. And despite him not knowing just who Yuuri is, Viktor finds himself wanting Yuuri to succeed in a way that he generally reserves for those he’s closer with, skaters like Christophe. And surely Yuuri can get another one in, the wear of skating barely even showing on him. Even if it’s just a double, he should put something there, prove to everybody his full strength.

But finally, there’s the slightest lilt in the music, and Viktor nearly misses the telltale sign of Yuuri Katsuki’s next jump, his time spent simply gliding on his left blade backwards nearly nonexistent before he’s going forwards to throw himself into the triple axel. And it’s huge and beautiful, and while Yuuri may have messed up on the Salchow beforehand, it doesn’t matter because Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever seen anybody do a jump like that. It’s captivating. Viktor wants to see it again and again, see Yuuri Katsuki do that again and again.

There’s happiness, relief, and pride running back into Viktor, but he can barely process any of it as he finds himself utterly captivated by the final few moments of Yuuri’s performance, the step sequence he delivers on such an incredible level that it’s impossible to look away from.

When Yuuri’s music ends, Viktor is clapping and it doesn’t matter that there’s literally no way for Yuuri to hear him, he does it anyways because he doesn’t know what else to do but clap after such a beautiful performance, mistakes being damned.

Yuuri Katsuki goes to the kiss and cry, and his coach - no wonder Yuuri is here, Celestino is far from a bad coach to have by your side - follows suit, sitting beside him as he puts on his blade guards.

Then the scores are displayed, revealing a deduction of 0.6 points, likely from the Salchow incident, and an overall score of 83.68. Yuuri Katsuki smiles. And it’s a radiant smile, and his coach pulls him close. Viktor can’t take his eyes off of Yuuri Katsuki.

Viktor can’t remember where he’s seen Yuuri before, but now he’s sure he won’t ever be able to forget the other skater. The way Yuuri’s eyes lit up with the joy when his score was displayed, placing him in second place just below Viktor himself, seems to replay in Viktor's mind on loop, even as cameras turn off of him.

There’s satisfaction, pride, accomplishment - so many different things - pouring into Viktor. Alongside it, his head fills with nothing but Yuuri Katsuki, magnifying the effects that such a performance is giving him.

It’s a nice mix, Viktor thinks: Yuuri Katsuki’s phenomenal skating alongside his soulmate’s joyful feelings. It feels almost right, a combination made in the heavens above.

 

Viktor’s slightly disappointed when Yuuri doesn’t appear at the rink when Viktor's there for practice on the off day between the competition. But he doesn’t let it bother him. Instead, he throws himself into his work like normal.

After all, he’s for sure going to see the other skater tomorrow with the free skate. Viktor has (sadly) gone his entire life without seeing Yuuri Katsuki on the ice, so another day really won’t hurt him, no matter how curious Viktor is about him.

And by not seeing Yuuri, Viktor means that, as soon as he gets back to his hotel room, he’s putting Yuuri Katsuki into Google and lets himself be dragged through the internet in search of all he can find on the other skater.

While Viktor's main focus is to watch Yuuri's skating, watch the way he seems to so freely fly across the ice, he does make sure to learn a few things about him first. Like how he’s from a small town in Japan called Hasetsu, but he now goes to a university in the United States where he’s coached under Celestino Cialdini. He owns a dog and has an older sister. Yuuri likes to play video games, and he is very close to his roommate and fellow skater Phichit Chulanont if the latter’s Instagram is telling the truth.

There’s not much more than that on Yuuri. He seems pretty private about his life - nothing Viktor could ever shame him for - and is pretty low profile on social media, appearing more in other people’s photos and stories than anything else. Viktor quickly decides that he’s just going to have to get to know Yuuri himself if he wants to know more about him.

Of course, after the initial information on just who Yuuri Katsuki is, Viktor dives directly into his skating career, already incredibly intrigued with him. The way he had performed the day before during the short program has Vikor curious as to why he hasn’t yet seen Yuuri on the ice with a lasting memory. His skating was on such a level that it seemed impossible to look away from, and with Viktor’s own experiences, he knows that skaters don’t evolve to that sort of skill over the course of one off season.

The first video he finds is Yuuri’s free skate at the most recent Japanese Nations, a program that boosted what is said to be his third consecutive win at the event. Even last year, his skating was captivating, spins and step sequences better than Viktor’s own. The title of Japanese National Champion belongs to him, no doubt.

Further digging shows only one Grand prix assignment in the previous season, however, no path to the final even possible. He’s also absent from Four Continents, which leaves Viktor in such confusion. Yuuri is is an extraordinary skater; why is Viktor just now learning about him?

The next search Viktor goes to is the most recent World Championship. Surely Japan would send their best skater along with the other three Viktor knows he saw performing. But Yuuri fails to show up in any videos or lineup with it.

How did Yuuri manage two grand Prix assignments this year with no Worlds behind him? Obviously the JSF worked to get him in. But why try so hard to put someone in the grand Prix, but not in the Worlds? Why did Yuuri Katsuki not perform there? He definitely had a strong enough program to rank high. _Why the hell does Yuuri Katsuki look so familiar?_

And then Viktor remembers, which really is a miracle. His face and those ugly glasses and the supposed absence at Worlds. Because while Yuuri may not have been at the last World Championship, but was at the one the year before. Awkward, shifty. Doubting himself, saying his skating wasn’t good.

But Yuuri is far from not good at skating. The guy actually looked at Viktor as the Japanese national champion and talked down on his own skating. The behaviour does explain explain the shakiness in his program yesterday, at least. It’s not that Yuuri isn’t used to competition, he just doesn’t understand his own skill and beauty.

Beauty.

Oh g-d, no person should look as good as Yuuri Katsuki while wearing those ugly, outdated glasses of his, and the fact that he can bring that attractiveness to the ice is almost frustrating because Viktor is sure that he can’t do that - hell, he doubts that even Chris could pull those damn things off. But Yuuri Katsuki does it and makes it look good.

Not that Viktor is paying attention to Yuuri’s looks. He’s just a fellow skater who happens to have caught Viktor’s eye. Viktor is just getting to know who the guy is. It means nothing that Viktor happens to pick up on attractiveness. It’s just a fact. Christophe is attractive, and Viktor saying and thinking that means nothing, so Viktor thinking that Yuuri is attractive also means nothing.

Maybe tomorrow, Viktor will be able to catch Yuuri and speak with him. He really does want to get to know the other skater outside of just what can be found on the internet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2) im am love bending rules of competition lmao NORMALLY a skater like yuuri would go near the beginning (as in the first block) no matter what he ends up drawing for a place but that doesn't work with dramatics so YOU KNOW i do what i want at this point
> 
> viktor is a DENSE idiot!!!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the weird writing lmao im totally fucked up with pain meds lmao
> 
> today was fun if fun means minor whatever it's called from a bee sting i cant speak english and i want to die

Viktor is set as the last skater in the men’s free skate section, going directly after Yuuri Katsuki. It gives him the perfect opportunity to watch the other skater rinkside instead of through a screen. And that, Viktor is happy about.

Yuuri doesn’t even show his face before the warm-up is set to start, the last boy in group one just leaving the kiss and cry when he shows up. This leaves Viktor with absolutely no time to start to talk to the other skater, as there’s no way that he’d allow himself to distract Yuuri from his practice right before competition. So Viktor promises himself to just catch him after everything ends today, talk to him when neither of them need to worry about performing.

While Viktor vows to not distract Yuurio from his warm-up, Viktor can’t deny that he himself is most definitely not entirely aware of himself during the six minutes. Countless times, he finds himself looking over at Yuuri to see what he’s going, to watch him and his broken apart practice as he does a jump or spin.

The six minutes run out too fast, and Viktor feels like an idiot when he gets off after only having gone for two jumps - one having been popped to boot. Yakov graciously says nothing on it, likely waiting to see how Viktor performs despite the sorry practice.

Today, things seem to actually be going pretty good. Unlike with the short program, he doesn’t feel like he’s about ready to die, which is really a nice bonus. Not only does he get to see Yuuri Katsuki skate, but he also isn’t being haunted by what certainly felt like imminent dom.

The only downside is that Yuuri is nowhere to be seen in the areas set aside for waiting. Even the locker rooms are empty of him.

But that’s okay, Viktor thinks. If Yuuri wants to wait in privacy, then he can do that. All the power to him. It’s just slightly disappointing that Viktor can’t see him, but he won’t complain. It’s Yuuri’s choice.

With little else to do, Viktor holes himself up into a small corner and stretches while he watches the first few skater of the block go, none putting up scores that Viktor can’t surpass. It’s a bit comforting to know that, even with a complete flop of a practice, the competition should still be his to win, Yuuri Katsuki likely his biggest challenge if he performs like he did in the short program two days ago.

So he can just try and relax the best he can and watch as things play out.

 

Viktor takes back what he said - well, thought - about today going well. Things are not going well. Things are very far from well. As in, “well” is the sun, and “things” are MACS0647. Things are not going good. 

A minute ago, the third to last skater took the ice. A minute ago, things were still good.

Thirty seconds ago, Yuuri Katsuki emerged, walking to the entrance that’d put him rinkside. Thirty seconds ago, things were still good.

Ten seconds ago, things became not good. Like, very not good. Not good in the way that has Viktor feeling like he’s next in line on the universe's hit list, and he’s been left to sit and wait in agony with this knowledge, knowing how minimal his left time is, left to question everything because everything could be out to get him. Ten seconds ago, Viktor’s soulmate crashed _hard_ mentally.

And that's not okay. Things are not going okay.

Viktor tries breathing first. Slow, controlled breathing that doesn’t match the erratic movements of his eyes as he tries to find something, anything, to calm himself down. But he finds nothing, and all too soon, Viktor loses the control he has and finds himself becoming short of breath again as his lungs go to match his heart in rapid rhythm, forcing him up off the floor.

Viktor’s foot starts to tap, moving most of his leg. Up, down, up , down. He clenches his eyes shut, tries to block out all the light in the world, to block out everything around him and just disappear.

A door crashes open.Viktor’s eyes snap open.

Yuuri Katsuki rushes through, a blur, followed by his coach, a larger blur. Where are they going?

Not that it matters.

Viktor feels like a blur.

His thumb is in his mouth, momentarily caught between his teeth before he pulls it out again. The world around him seems to be on the verge of fading away. Unreal. He’s not here.

It’s almost a comforting thought, and maybe it could have helped to keep Viktor from completely losing himself if there wasn’t a persistent voice in the back of his head telling him to get himself - and his soulmate - together because he’s very real and very much set to skate soon.

“Vitya.”

It’s Yakov’s voice. Viktor looks up, eyes wide, at his coach.Yakov looks slightly worried, reaching his arms hands out hesitantly, but he doesn’t touch Viktor. Viktor can’t say anything, mind running blank on all words. 

“What’s wrong, Vitya?” Did something happen?” Yakov’s voice is low with concern. But it’s grounding.

He’s real. This is real.

Viktor leans forward to Yakov, falling into his outstretched arms. Yakov doesn’t waste time in wrapping him in a tight embrace, reminiscent of earlier days when Viktor would often look to his coach for comfort before and after programs. “It hurts, Yakov,” Viktor says - more whines - softly. “I don’t know why, Yakov. I’m so worried, I don’t understand, and it hurts. It all hurts.”

There’s a gentle touch to Viktor’s head, and he would feel really silly to have Yakov damn near petting him like he was fifteen again were it not helping him. The familiar feeling calms him ever so slightly, stops his leg from bouncing and seems to sap all the nervous energy from him. Gently, Viktor releases the tension in his body and allows himself to just be held up by Yakov.

“Is it your soulmate?”

Soulmate. Yes. His soulmate. Who is real. He’s here at a competition and his soulmate is not okay.

Finally becoming more aware again of his surroundings, Viktor pushes lightly at yakov’s chest, prompting him to let go. “My soulmate,” Viktor says as he back away with a sigh. “Yes. And I have no idea why, though. It… it’s happened before. I don’t know why today is so bad, actually. I’ve skated through it before, at practices. They’re very… nervous. I think. G-d, Yakov, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t even think properly.”

Yakov’s giving Viktor a look, one he can’t read, but he doesn’t give Viktor a response beyond a small nod, turning away.

Why is he going? Viktor needs him, needs his help.

“Yakov?” Viktor calls after him, reaching a hand out despite the fact that Yakov hs his back turned to him.

“I don’t know how to help much,” Yakov says, continuing to face away, “but just… you don’t need to know why this is happening, just that is is happening. Whatever it is, it sure is one hell of an issue with your soulmate, and for the sake of both of you, I say you try your hardest to help them. If this is how you’re feeling, how you’re reacting, I can’t imagine what the hell they’re going through. You’re in no condition to skate like this, so you need to sort it out. Fast.”

The words are probably supposed to help, except now Viktor is thinking about just what his soulmate must be going through to bring them to such a state. It has to be something awful, something -

Viktor’s thoughts are cut off as he sees Yuuri Katsuki walking for the rink. Looking up at the screen reveals the current skater finishing his programs with the fall of music.

That means Yuuri Katsuki is up to skate.

Right as Yuuri reaches the doorway, Viktor’s impulses get the best of him, not even his avalanche of nerves able to stop him.

“Yuuri, good luck!”

Yuuri Katsuki freezes momentarily, and Viktor thinks his heart may skip a beat - or stop altogether - hoping for the other skater to turn around. To acknowledge him. To notice him. Sadly, though, Yuuri doesn’t. Viktor just barely catches the sound of a thank you as Yuuri starts ahead again.

And then the moment passes, leaving Viktor tucked away, alone in the room save for Yakov, feeling almost as if he is floating on air.

But Yuuri Katsuki is about ready to skate. Yuuri Katsuki. And Viktor really wants to see Yuuri Katsuki skate live and in person, be there to see him right from the side of the rink, on his level, to be able to witness his step sequences first hand. Viktor wants to watch.

“I think maybe moving next to the ice may help me,” Viktor says to Yakov, looking to where Yuuri disappeared. “The cold air. It may help to clear my mind.”

Yakov doesn’t argue, letting Viktor go where he wants.

Viktor’s out just in time to see Yuuri push away from the wall.

Viktor’s out just in time for another gut wrenching pound of anxiety to smash into him like a brick wall.

But he’s distracted momentarily by the sheer amount of glitter in what could have easily passed as a normal suit hugging Yuuri’s body perfectly. It’s eye catching a he moves, the light constantly shifting and bouncing off of it, bringing to life a colourful dance all on its own, lighting up the blue fabric. Just for a moment, Viktor’s mind is wiped blank at the scene. No matter how excessive it may be, he can’t help but find the beauty is such a costume.

But then it comes rushing back, and Viktor is already feeling his breathing speed up again in worry. Fear. Anxiety.

Yuuri Katsuki’s hands are shaking again. It’s kind of a sad sight to see; he’s obviously a talented skater and has what it takes to perform incredibly well here. It’s a shame he doesn’t see the same thing in himself, that he doubts himself so much.

Viktor’s sure his own hands are shaking, even as he clenches at the bottom of his skate jacket. He’s an absolute wreck right now, and he knows it.

At least he gets to see Yuuri Katsuki skate.

The sharp sound of Yuuri’s blade cutting into the ice rings out, hitting even Viktor’s ears, as ill positions as he is. Yuuri’s stopped, off center with the ice. He looks almost dazed as he stands in his starting position, eye distant, arms almost limp at his side, ready to fall any moment.

Without warning, everything drops from Viktor. All at once, the anxiety, the doubt, the worry, it all seems to just melt out of him, to disappear, leaving him feeling empty, lost, unsure of just what he’s supposed to do.

It’s a calm feeling. Almost too calm.

Yuuri’s program music starts off sharp, hitting Viktor unexpectedly. And while Viktor is left in his own daze now, Yuuri is moving.

 _Yuuri is moving._ Skating. Yuuri is beautiful.

Unlike for the short program, Yuuri now has his hair slicked back, out of his face, and Viktor can damn near see him immersing himself with the performance. The only thing giving away his being aware of anything else beyond his movements is the lackluster look ins hie yes, still looking oh so far away, hinting at what may be Yuuri’s own partial absence to the competition.

It looks similar to how Viktor feels right now: disconnected from everything.

Yuuri skates just as beautifully as he did the day before, despite falling on a quad Salchow and popping an axel later on in the program. While his jumps aren’t fully there, the presentation still is. Despite his lack of full presence, he still manages to deliver his interpretation and step sequence on that high level that Viktor is still in awe over.

It’s disappointing when the program ends. Yuuri bows for the crowd and some flowers come down, but not a lot. Viktor doesn't think to clap, or even cheer, just watches as Yuuri makes his way off the ice, signifying Viktor’s turn to go.

Yakov walks up behind him, and no words are needed for Viktor to strip himself of his jacket and pass it on to his coach, revealing the top portion of is costume.

Viktor steps on the ice, slowly, the score of Yuuri still not announced. The performance hadn’t been perfect - it was good, but not perfect. The pressure on Viktor can’t be too high, no matter if he wanted it to be or not.

Finally, Yuuri’s free skate score is announced - 163.85, making his combined score 247.43 points, currently putting him in first place. All Viktor needs to beat that is a bit more than 150. Easily done.

Yakov takes Viktor’s hand briefly and nods in encouragement. Viktor nod back. He can do this. This competition is practically being handed to him at this point. He’s Viktor Nikiforov, and he’s going to win gold today in France.

As a loud voice introduces him, Viktor pushes away, forcing a smile onto his face for everyone around him. From the corner of his eyes, Viktor can see Yuuri, still in the kiss and cry. Briefly, he turns to look, and Viktor swears they make eye contact before he’s forced to look ahead again.

There’s a rush that runs through Viktor, and he’s not entirely sure if it comes from him or his soulmate. It doesn’t matter too much, in the end, because now, Viktor is up to skate. He wants to skate now, the feeling urging him on. For his soulmate. This is for his soulmate. It’s not hard to gather the feelings of want and longing, loneliness, with himself. As he brings himself into his starting position, Viktor allows his mind to be flooded with the feeling, eyes drooping as he imagines a figure standing at the other end of the ice. And if that lone, dark figure vaguely resembles the man sitting in the kiss and cry, then so be it. Yuuri’s who he’s been longing for the most in these past few days, the one who he ached to see in person, skate in person, speak to in person. He’s allowed to put a temporary face in for a performance.

Viktor’s movements flow out of im when his music starts, the dance so easily played in his mind. Across from him, always keeping a distance from Viktor, his his roommate, matching all of his movements.

Here, the jump layout is a bit more difficult tan with the short program, despite his decision against using the quad Lutz. But he can work through it all, can still skate his heart out, as long as he has his soulmate with him, dancing by his side, staying by his side.

Viktor can feel anticipation build in him as he puts his weight onto his left blade, easily going into the three turn before his right toe pick hits the ice. And he’s flying. Viktor’s flying, free, searching. Upon landing, a phantom, second _clack_ hits his ears from his soulmate, who’s now closer. Almost within an arm’s reach, but not quite.

He feels alive as he moves, like all previous worries don’t matter anymore. The music guides him, creates a path for him, cuts the way through the ice. It keeps him afloat, keeps him alive.

It helps Viktor feel a little less alone as he dances a dance for two, like his imagined figure will suddenly turn real and fall into his arms, his soulmate finally by his side.

Viktor is barely aware of the second half of his program, only there enough to do his final four jumping passes without injuring himself, to keep from getting more than a painful bruise when he falls on the tail end of a combination.

The song itself resonates through Viktor, loud and clear, commanding his thoughts. Soothing him, in its own way. It speaks for him, allows him to say what he wasn't to any camera or keyboard. It allows him to bare his soul to the world, to cry out in a way he can't do anywhere, anyway, else. It gives him a voice, a meaning.

As the final word is held, Viktor swiftly goes into a layback Ina Bauer, reaching a hand up before coming out of it and into a sit spin, barely controlling the fast movements as he raises himself, right arm fully outstretched above him, his other resting, bent alongside his side, left hand gently resting atop his heart. Viktor slows down, spin losing momentum, and uses his right hand to reach out to where his soulmate is. They grab his hand, an invisible feeling, and he pulls them close, lifting his left arm’s position to end in an embrace, head tilted down, to the ice and his soulmate’s skates.

Their invisible skates.

Skates worn by an invisible body.

The roaring crowd dissolves the less than solid figure of Viktor’s soulmate, leaving him alone on the ice again.

There’s a rain of flowers on the edges of the ice. Viktor pays little mind to them, only giving small bows as he skates over to where Yakov stands, ready to help him off the ice. He’s breathing hard and fast - this time due to exertion - and graciously take Yakov’s offered hand as he steps off the ice.

They meander over to the kiss and cry, and Viktor thinks he must still be stuck in the performance because his entire body feels fuzzy and good. He feels almost content despite his need for water, and he lazily puts on his blade guards, letting a small, goofy smile spread across his face when he grabs an offered bottle from Yakov.

Thing now are… okay? Well? Good? Good. Things are good, Viktor thinks, quickly downing over half of the water in the bottle. Things are, in fact, good.

Yakov’s speaking, congratulating him, but Viktor is just waiting for the score. Partially because after he gets his score is the medal ceremony, and with the medal ceremony, he can stand by Yuri Katsuki’s side on the podium. He really wants to stand next to Yuuri Katsuki.

Viktor reads the score before he hears it. 176.88. It’s above and beyond what he needs, ending with him as the gold medalist, full score of 270.56. He smiles wide, more for show than anything, the score actually very _low_ in comparison to what he knows he can do. Yakov claps him on the shoulder, thought, still content with Viktor ending up in first.

And really, the smile feels so fake on Viktor’s face that he worries it may be caught as such later on. But that’s okay, he guesses. Worse things can happen. And while the smile is fake, he is happy, joy riding along his mind and body, followed by mild disappointment that Viktor chalks up to just be from a rather low p ogram score. Right now, he’s actually happy, though, and just because the whole world doesn’t get to see his real display of the motion isn’t his fault.

It's not for them. His happiness right now isn’t for the world. He’s Viktor Nikiforov, and he just skated a rigorous program about his longing and loneliness for his soulmate. It was a cry for his soulmate, not the world, and all of his good, energetic feelings gained by the program or for them and them alone. Damn the world, it sure as hell hasn’t helped Viktor so far with the pain that’s been shared between them. Why should he share any gain from this program with it?

No. Right now, the world can be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unf ok so there was that lmao


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey it's 1245am i havent proofread any of this enjoy it while it last fuck shit man

It takes a tortuously long time for the medal ceremony to commence.

Well, in reality, it takes the normal time, but for Viktor, that’s too much time. He wants to be next to Yuuri Katsuki, to speak to Yuuri Katsuki. To have his photo taken next to Yuuri Katsuki. Viktor’s own keepsake, he thinks. Surely it’ll be easy to get Yuuri to take a selfie with him. The gold and silver medalist, side by side.

As the event organizers work to lay everything out onto the ice - the carpets being set up and the podium put in place - Viktor waits impatiently. He catches small glimpses of Yuuri throughout the process, but he always ends up being with his coach, looking down at his phone and talking with him. Not wanting to interrupt the younger skater, Viktor keeps his distance, reassuring himself that he can talk to Yuuri in just a few minutes. If only they’d _hurry up_ with getting things set out.

When the lights fall low again, Viktor is on alert. Finally. 

He makes his way to the edge of the ice, waiting for the final cue for him to be allowed back on the ice. As soon as it’s given, his blades guards are off, blindly being given to Yakov, and he’s stepping back onto the ice. He does a small lap around before situating himself a few feet in front of the podium, waving to everybody around him, smile large on his face and he makes sure all sides of the stands can see him.

Then he’s moving backwards, stepping onto the fabric laid out before the podium so that he can take his place at the top. So that Yuuri Katsuki can come back out to the ice. Yuuri Katsuki, who easily secured himself second place in this competition, who’s such a brilliant skater.

And Yuuri’s on the ice. His movements, even now, are hard to look away from. He seems to just glide across the ice, effortlessly stopping in the middle. He’s bowing, turning, and when Viktor sees him, there’s just the faintest of a smile on his face, concealed by worry. But it’s still a smile, and Viktor feels his heart clench in his chest at the look of it. 

Yuuri Katsuki should always smile. It looks perfect.

The claps for Yuuri continue to run through the stadium, even as he turns away and make his way to the ice. And Viktor’s heart is beating _fast_ because here he comes. He looks stunning, magnificent, his hair still a mess from after the free skate. Viktor wants to run his hand through it - it looks so soft - and mess it up even further, wants to run a thumb across his cheek, to hold his hand.

Excitement runs through Viktor like nothing before. Excitement and anticipation, his very being alight in the feeling.

Yuuri is in front of Viktor, hand extended. Viktor’s breath stops. He leans forward a little bit, too big of a grin spreading across his face and he takes Yuuri’s hand into both of his. They’re so soft, they fit perfectly in his own, they’re cold and Viktor can warm them, wants to warm them, always warm Yuuri-

“Congratulations.” His voice is smooth, beautiful, like music. 

Viktor can’t say anything. And this isn’t good. This is very not good. 

“You did very well,” Viktor says, nodding his head. He knows he needs to let go of Yuuri, but he really doesn’t want to. He’s so close and so magnificent. Viktor draws away, slightly disappointed when Yuuri doesn’t linger in front of him, quick to take his place on the right end of the podium.

The third place skater is there, but Viktor pays little attention to him as he does his own rounds, unable to think about anything more than Yuuri. Yuuri who, despite Viktor only knowing about him for three days, has managed to worm his way into Viktor’s mind without knowing so. Not that Viktor can find himself seeing this is a negative way because, from what he has seen, Yuuri is nothing but a phenomenal skater, even if he doesn’t see it in himself. 

Viktor wants to tell him that, to tell Yuuri he has the most enrapturing step sequences that Viktor has ever seen, that the way he moves on the ice parallels nobody, but he also knows that, right now, that’s inappropriate. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t even tell Yuuri “good job” without freezing up.

When Viktor is faced with third-place, he smiles his smile for the cameras, shaking his hands and telling him he did a good job. But his mind is elsewhere, on the skater to his right instead of in front of him. The podium seems ridiculously large at the moment, with Yuuri forced to stand too far way from Viktor. But that’s okay, Viktor thinks. It’s only temporary. After the official part of the ceremony end and they all have their medals, Yuuri will be up on the top of the podium, and Viktor can finally speak to him. If he can remember how to speak this time.

The ceremony itself goes by in a blur, Viktor unable to properly concentrate for most of it. He accepts the small flower arrangement given out, accepts the gold medal, shakes hands and listens to congratulations. He gives thanks to all who come across him, smiles for the cameras that light up when everybody is lined out in front of him.

When the event organizers begin to move away, Viktor starts to feel energy run through him again. Just a few more pictures are taken of the three of them in their places, and then, in the corner of his eye, he sees Yuuri start to move.

Viktor bites his lip in anticipation, cameras on him be damned because Yuuri is moving towards him. Everything about him in anxious and excited and worried but happy. And he’s at his side, Yuuri’s left arm touching Viktor’s right. Viktor has to resist the urge to do something stupid, like grab his hand. The photographers still need their picture, and that isn’t want Viktor wants them to get on their rolls.

However, in the earth’s way of blessing Viktor, it is normal for him, as the victor, to be putting his arms behind the other two skaters’ backs. Every touch along the outside of Yuuri’s costume in thrilling, the soft material lighting pu Viktor’s nerves with the idea that he’s touching Yuuri, has him close, nearby. Almost able to talk to him. Almost.

Soon.

A lot more cameras flash on the three of them, and then Viktor’s arms are dropping to his side to hold up his medal, for even more pictures. The medal ceremony is probably the most boring part of competitions - it’s nothing but formalities and photos, fake thanks given to judges that could have easily screwed him over for no other reason than the fact that they may have just felt like it. It all became to repetitive, pointless to him, that this one time where he’s actually enjoying it throws him off a bit. He’s not used to enjoying it, to be happy to be standing atop the podium, sandwiched between two others. But because one of those two is Yuuri Katsuki, he can’t say he isn’t enjoying this in some way.

When the cameramen start to trickle away, Yuuri and the third place skater each move away from Viktor, signalling his time to leave as well. He jumps from the podium with ease to do the final victory lap, trusting the other two to follow behind him. 

After what seems like a bit too long, Viktor sees Yakov standing off to the side. Quickly, he moves up to the wall and leans over, signally his coach to him. Thankfully, Yakov comes to him without question.

“You have my phone with you, right?” Viktor asks once Yakov is close enough to the wall.

Yakov nods, his hand resting on his pocket. “What do you need it for?”

Viktor smiles wide, reaching his hands across the barrier. “I just want a commemorative photo is all!” he says. 

“And this photo can’t wait for the gala?” Yakov asks, a confused look on his face.

That stops Viktor for a moment. The gala. He actually managed to forget about the gala. But the gala isn’t for another day, and Viktor wants the photo with Yuuri _now_ , with Yuuri still in his free skate costume. What’s wrong with taking a photo now? “Tomorrow I won’t be wearing this costume,” Viktor says, pouting just the slightest. “And I want the photo while wearing this. It’s so pretty and sparkly!”

“So is your exhibition costume.”

Viktor is about to ask Yakov again when his coach shakes his head, reaching his hand into the pocket and pulling out Viktor’s phone. “Perfect! Thank you, Yakov!” Viktor grabs it with greedy hands before speeding away from the barrier to look for where Yuuri went off to. Time to get his picture.

All it takes is one glimpse of flashy blue in the corner of Viktor’s eye to have him making a sharp turn around towards Yuuri, phone clutched tightly in his hand. “Yuuri!” he calls out, raising his other hand when the other skater looks over, allowing a goofy smile to spread across his face because Yuuri is _looking_ at him.

Yuuri skates slowly to Viktor, meeting him halfway as they meet. Viktor’s fidgety, feeling slight confusion come through him - which is a little odd, but he doesn’t question it. Mostly he’s excited to finally get his photo with Yuuri.

Awkwardly, Viktor holds up his phone to Yuuri’s sight. “Can I take a photo with you?” he manages to get out in one breath, suddenly very nervous. And why would he, Viktor Nikiforov, be nervous around Yuuri Katsuki? Yuuri is just another skater, right? Viktor interacts with other skaters all the time, there is absolutely no need for him to be nervous or anxious or feeling his stomach twist into ten million different knots all at once just because he’s standing right in front of Yuuri.

“What?”

Shit. Did Yuuri just not understand what Viktor is asking? Was his accent to thick? Did he speak to fast? Or maybe Yuuri isn’t the best with English like Viktor just automatically assumed he is - but Celestino is his coach, and Celestino speaks pretty much exclusively Italian and English, some French on the side, but very limited. So Yuuri would have to understand basic enough English to understand the question.

So not a language thing. Still possibly an accent thing? Viktor is nervous enough to let it slip. 

Okay, so maybe he needs a bit more indicator of what he’s asking because Viktor knows damn well that he isn’t magically going to get any less nervous about this, so however clear he was speaking before is going to stay. Well, he can barely even speak in the first place, so of course he’s having trouble speaking right now. Nothing wrong with that-

“Is everything okay?” Yuuri asks, putting Viktor’s mind back on the proper track. Right. The photo.

“Yes, yes,” Viktor says quickly, unlocking his phone and pulling up his cameras. “I just… um.” This is harder than it has any right to be. Every part of him is screaming in joy and anxiety and happiness, singing and on fire. He shoves his phone up to show Yuuri his open cameras, hoping that it’ll get the message across. “A commemorative photo?”

Viktor thinks his breath stops in the moments it takes for Yuuri to understand, his eyes going wide with surprise. And when he finally says yes, Viktor’s heart explodes.

Yes.

Viktor gets a photo with Yuuri Katsuki.

Viktor’s smiling again, larger than ever in his pure joy because Yuuri said yes and he can get his photo with Yuuri Katsuki.

“Perfect!” Viktor exclaims, turning himself so that he’s to the side of Yuuri and changing to his front facing camera. Without waiting, he raises it above the two of their heads, leaning his head over onto Yuuri’s shoulder. “Smile!”

Yuuri puts on a small, shy smile that Viktor thinks is absolutely adorable. Viktor matches it with his own large smile and holds down on his screen, burst capturing the moment. 

It’s over far too soon, Viktor forced to pull his phone away far too soon. And then he’s moving away, his heart dropping as he thanks Yuuri. Yuuri smiles, a bit bigger at the thanks, but doesn’t say anything before he moves away, probably leaving the ice just like Viktor needs to be doing. He doesn’t want to leave, wants to have Yuuri back at his side in his bright blue costume, but he knows that can’t happen. After the gala tomorrow, he won’t be seeing Yuuri again - not until the Grand Prix Final, assuming Yuuri makes it.

The hold Viktor has on his phone as he goes to leave the ice isn’t nearly as strong as it wa going on. While he’s of course happy to have the photo, he seems a little lost now. That’s what he was looking forward to, but now it’s passed. He’ll see Yuuri later for the press conference, where he won’t really be able to even talk to Yuuri, then they’ll share the ice while practicing for their exhibition, and then the gala. None of these give Viktor another chance to talk to Yuuri.

But that’s okay, Viktor thinks. There’s no way that Yuuri won’t make it to the final, no way that he won’t be seeing that flashy blue costume back on the ice where he can see the light dance across all of Yuuri’s body in the intimate dance he does, his very body melding into the ice and choreography.

Viktor’s barely aware of the world around him as he steps off the ice, handing Yakov his phone in return for his blade guards.

He needs to change now, out of costume and into street clothes. That’s easy enough, he guesses.

 

The rest of the day is uneventful, yet when Viktor finally gets back to his hotel room, he’s absolutely exhausted. Which, granted, is normal after competing, but it’s almost a different type of exhaustion. Sure, his body aches, but it’s not just that. He just feels… not empty, but close. Like he’s missing something.

His first plan of action is to shower. While he got a small one in while in the rink’s locker rooms, it wasn’t nearly enough to wash out all the sweat from the day.

He’s one of the few to be graced with a single room, being able to afford his own temporary space, so he doesn’t wait to get to the bathroom to strip himself of his clothes. Viktor lets them all drop to the floor in an ungraceful mess, vaguely thinking that he’ll fix them later, get them out of the way later. It’s not like they can inconvenience anybody but himself.

Viktor feels like a zombie wandering into the bathroom, taking his time to actually get there, all his soap and shampoo already in there with this being day three of the competition. Along with the pair of gym shorts he sleeps in, tossed away in a small corner.

Okay, so that’s a little gross, but whatever. He has more he can sleep in.

The water starts, hotter than necessary, but that’s how Viktor feels like today. He needs the heat to beat down on him, to burn into his skin and leave him red for some time. 

His back feels it the most. It’s always been home to some of his most sensitive skin, feeling the extremes of both hot and cold much more than anything else. But it’s nice, keeps him there and drives him to move on with actually washing himself instead of just standing under the hard spray of the water. 

He washes his hair first, always having gone from head to toe for as long as he can remember. Just like his mom taught him. 

As the shampoo washes out of his hair, Viktor looks down, glances at the mark on his chest that he for so long denied himself to actually look at. It looks the same as ever, the colour still a vibrant blue to his eyes. It calms him, the sight of it comforting in a way. He’s never alone, even now when he feels like he’s missing something. He could lose everything, and he’d still have his soulmate.

That can never change.

With a small smile, he raises his head again, letting the blue flash by in his vision. 

Just like Yuuri Katsuki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> viktor???? and yuuri??????// findally somewhat interacting some more? it's less likely than u think but it did happen
> 
> fick i need sluup uh
> 
> follow me on tumblr for more dank memes and discourse @shomouno


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhhhh hi guys,,,,,,
> 
> im not dead unfortunately
> 
> i say school relly fuckn came and murder me but im back

Exhibitions are some of the most enjoyable parts of events, Viktor finds. While he does enjoy competing - he’s made his life around doing so, after all - few things can actually top the innocent joy and fun of exhibitions, through both the final exhibition skate and the end group fun between the skaters who make it out onto the ice.

The extra opportunity to talk again with Katsuki Yuuri as he is out on the ice is simply a spectacular bonus.

Yuuri, Viktor is finding out, wears a lot of blues, in both his costumes and off of the ice. There’s always some hint of blue on him, even his glasses - those outdated glasses - are _blue_. It's a wonderful colour, but especially on Yuuri. Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful blue than all of which Yuuri wears, save for the blue smudge that Viktor himself bears. 

This idea is very much reinforced when Yuuri makes his appearance, dark, shimmery blues mixed with a grey so impossibly dark that only in certain direct lights can it be seen to actually be grey and not black. He looks absolutely stunning in it, Viktor thinks, less princely than Viktor looks and more graceful, otherworldly as he moves just across the ground talking with his coach.

Viktor wonders if Celestino picks Yuuri’s outfits, like Yakov once did for Viktor, or if it’s Yuuri’s doing that brings such costumes to play.

He wonders if Yuuri knows just how enthralling he looks in what he wears. He hopes that Yuuri does.

Viktor is about to approach Yuuri when he’s called over to the side, the first place Chinese pairs group standing next to one of the many translators scattered throughout. With little real haste, Viktor makes his way to them, slightly disappointed in his inability to talk with Yuuri at the moment. However he can’t complain too much, the two who called for him having kept him good company during earlier practice.

Viktor finds himself kept busy for all of ten minutes, last second reminders being thrown about for the performance before he’s let free again to wander while everything else if continuing to be set up. It’s a bit like waiting for a show to start - everybody sitting in the back, waiting for their spot in the show. With twenty-four main programs set to be skated, plus the small group stuff, it takes a bit to properly set things up with the small time allotted between competition and the exhibition.

Just because the event organizers say something is going to start at a specific time does not actually mean that is when it’s going to start. It’s something Viktor found out long ago and come to accept as a fact of life. Yes, there are people in the stands, yes the organizers initially said the exhibition was set to start seven minutes ago - no, Viktor is not out on the ice with the others who landed first place to start the exhibition.

Viktor wonders if it ever annoys Katsuki Yuuri. What does it take to annoy him? Was Viktor asking for a photo annoying? He seems so quiet and reserved in public that Viktor can’t really imagine what Yuuri looks like when angry or annoyed.

Viktor wishes that Katsuki Yuuri would never have to feel that way. Viktor wishes that Yuuri never had to feel anxious, either. Back during the short program and free skate, Viktor could see everything on Yuuri, all the worry and the nerves, and he wishes that they weren’t things Yuuri had to feel. Viktor unfortunately knows the extent to which they can reach from his own soulmate’s reactions, and it’s nothing that he can imagine Yuuri would ever deserve. Really, nobody deserves to feel such a thing, but especially not Katsuki Yuuri.

Katsuki Yuuri, with his bright, expressive eyes and his other-worldly skating, and his-

A signal is given. Viktor almost misses it, but is able to drag himself out of his thoughts in time to realize that it’s time for him to get out on the ice with all the other gold medalists.

They’re set to give what Viktor considers a small victory run, a few group circles done between he and the five others on the ice with him.

While nothing insane can be set up for a small exhibition, there still is minor choreography between them all - something that often times can end up looking completely ridiculous depending on costume variations. But it just makes things that much better, in Viktor’s opinion. After all, what can be done when a key medalist ends up having had plans to skate their exhibition in a Mario costume? Absolutely nothing; that’s the costume they brought, and that’s the costume they will skate in with the rest of a set group. Sometimes, it just has to be accepted that Mario is skating with the winners that day.

Sadly, there is no Mario here.

But, with or without Mario, Viktor knows that the exhibition won’t be able to be all that bad. After all, Katsuki Yuuri will be skating, and any time that Viktor gets to see him skate will always be a good time. Well, that’s how it seems to be turning out, it seems.

It’s a bit easier to handle this now. A few days into the whole Katsuki Yuuri freakout and Viktor can almost easily admit that sure he may possibly have a small, miniscule crush on Katsuki Yuuri. But Viktor is an adult, and he definitely knows exactly how to deal with feelings, so for now, it’s all okay. He won’t panic because he’s an adult, and that’s now what adults do.

At least Viktor doesn’t think that that’s what adults do. Really, most of his friends who also happen to be adults now have all run through running into their soulmates and either falling in love - like Chris and his husband - or completely crashing - see Georgi who is slowly on the downward spiral with his girlfriend. Or they don’t even have a soulmate, but are still happily in a relationship - like Stéphane. And he doesn’t ever recall seeing any of them ever freak out over some boy or girl that they liked after the age of twenty-two was hit, so that means that Viktor can’t just freak out over Katsuki Yuuri. That means he needs to just accept it and allow it.

Yes, Katsuki Yuuri looks pretty damn good. Yes, his skating is incredibly amazing and attractive. Yes, his smile could probably light up about ten different worlds.

So what.

So Viktor can’t let these types of things distract him, especially when he’s stepping on to the ice for group skating where he needs to be aware of the people around him and also the last second choreography he’s set up to perform with. Because the last thing that VIktor needs is to end up falling flat on his ass because he was thinking about some boy, or, even worse, to trip somebody else up because he’s not paying attention. 

However, no matter how hard he tries, Viktor can’t help but think of Yuuri as he and the other skaters form a circle, can’t help but think of Yuuri as he skates with them, wondering if he’s watching. 

Viktor _hopes_ that Yuuri is watching.

After a few minutes, Viktor and the other gold medalists are taking their leave from the ice. After a few minutes, as Viktor is making his way off to the side into a long hallway to escape the cold of the ice, he catches sees a small flash of Katsuki Yuuri walking alone to the ice.

Again, like so many other times during this event, Viktor wants to stop Yuuri, to talk to him and look at him. Before, Viktor justified not talking to him with it being competition and not wanting to somehow distract Yuuri before his performances, needing to not be the cause of low scores. Right now, however, he doesn’t know what stops him. It’s not like Yuuri is talking to anybody else, not even on his phone, but Viktor can’t find it in himself to talk to Yuuri.

He almost wants to say that it’s nerves. Almost. But Viktor has never had not been able to talk to someone before because of nerves - save for with… well, Katsuki Yuuri. The two times that he’s been faced with talking to Katsuki Yuuri - the one time after Worlds and just two days ago after they both made the podium - Viktor has found himself completely overcome with near suffocating nerves. Granted, the time at Worlds was completely fueled by his soulmate.

Well, Viktor thinks, if there’s anybody who can get him completely caught up in this type of feeling, he’s happy that it’s Katsuki Yuuri because Yuuri is nothing short of phenomenal. Can he even be blamed for being nervous around the other skater?

No. Viktor really doesn’t think he can be.

He somehow ends up in the locker rooms, which isn’t where he really intended to end up. Where he was trying to go by walking down that hallway, Viktor isn’t totally sure, but it wasn’t the locker room, no matter how nice it is to be alone at times.

But is it worth leaving now that he’s here?

Viktor knows it’ll be quite some time before it’s time for him to get back onto the ice, the order of skaters slowly working its way up through the top six spots in all divisions, so it’s not like he would have to be hyper-vigilant were he to stay here for now. And maybe it’d be good on him to stay alone before skating. Who knows. Normally at this point, he’d be surrounded by other people, and while Viktor loves socializing, right now, it does almost feel nice to just be alone instead of having three different people trying to talk in his direction while still trying to keep track of the event itself.

After a minute of thinking, the decision is easy to make; he stays.

While the locker room isn’t spectacularly built, it is spacious, built to be able to accommodate large amounts of people from various different ice sports, which means that he doesn’t have to worry about feeling cramped. Which is nice, really. There are some locker rooms, in smaller towns and smaller rinks, that feel almost suffocating when there’s only two people in it.

Viktor lets himself drop down on the bench, his blade guards making a small clack against the concrete as he settles himself into a more or less comfortable position to bring up his phone.

Social media is his initial plan, however it’s quickly deterred by the sight of a new message from Chris.

> _**Chris:** je t’ai vu :p_  
>  _**Chris:** et yuuri_  
>  _**Chris:** hier_  
>  _**Chris:** tu connais lui?_

Leave it to Chris to be a day late and in French. And to double - well, quadruple - text. Viktor can’t really fault him on the last part seeing as he is a chronic sufferer of hitting send after every bit of thought possible when texting some people, but the French is on Chris. Ever since Chris became aware of the extent of Viktor’s fluency in the language - courtesy of walking in on Viktor and Stéphane having a rather heated conversation during an ice show - he’s made it his mission to annoy Viktor in it.

It’s weird, actually. When they’re meeting face to face, Chris seems to have no real troubles speaking English to Viktor, even after the one or two times Viktor has responded to him in French. But more and more often, Chris sends the most pointless texts to Viktor in French, and it doesn’t matter much if Viktor responds in English or not because Christophe Giacometti’s new favourite pastime in this electronic age is to annoy Viktor in French. He just wishes he could return in kind with Russian.

With nothing better to do, Viktor responds.

> _**You:** i just met him here and we didnt really talk i just asked for a photo with him_

Viktor wishes that were a lie, wishes he had done more than ask for a selfie. He wishes he had actually been able to talk to Katsuki Yuuri.

Although why would Viktor really care about him and Yuuri?

> _**You:** why?_

Viktor is just now learning who Katsuki Yuuri really is, why would Chris be interested in any small interaction between he and Viktor?

> _**Chris:** quand j’etais un junior on a parlé_  
>  _**Chris:** il a été toujours plus d’aimable_  
>  _**Chris:** comment va-t-il???? il retourne à la glace encore cet an_

Juniors. Viktor didn’t even think to consider ages. Chris is about the same age as Yuuri, just a year or two older than him. Of course they’d have been in juniors together. Viktor, on the other hand, can’t remember a single time he skated on the same ice as Yuuri, probably barely having missed his junior skating by a year or two with his early senior debut.

> _**You:** was he good back then too? he seems very anxious. is he always like this or no?_

If Chris is going to bother him in the middle of an event, then Viktor is going to try and learn something from him. There’s a very real possibility that the reason Viktor doesn’t know Yuuri’s name beyond this year is because he wasn’t the best going through and coming out of juniors, never having to think of him as a threat to his titles. But Viktor was also young and dumb - still is a bit dumb when it comes to those around him, if he’s being honest - and could have easily not have payed any mind to Yuuri even if his name was displayed as a prospective senior skater.

He never did go back to try and find some of his older performances.

> _**Chris:** oui_  
>  **Chris:** well, and no

“Well, and no.” English again.

> _**Chris:** he’s best in practice, watching him skating alone is fantastic_  
>  **Chris:** But he’s always been this way. The kid’s a nervous wreck for the most part, Viktor, so don’t you dare try and hurt him. It has a tendency to interfere with his skating, but he’s good. From what I remember, he’s a huge fan of your skating. Even in juniors, he looked up to you. Break his dreams and I may break you.

Well then. Viktor is left staring at his phone, unsure of how he’s supposed to respond to the sudden switch in tone from Chris. “Break his dreams and I may break you”. That seems a bit extreme. What is Chris expecting Viktor to do? It’s not like he’s trying to court Yuuri.

Is there any way he can actually respond to this? Is there any proper response? Viktor sure isn’t seeing one. Chris just vaguely threatened him about a boy Viktor just met.

Maybe spending time alone in the locker room isn’t what he needs before performing.

With phone clutched loosely in his hand, Viktor makes to stand again when he hears the door swing open on the other side of the room. Quickly, he tries to make sure he isn’t showing any sort of shock or confusion from what Chris had said.

He turns around to head to the door and there stands Katsuki Yuuri, looking slightly ruffled with cheeks flushes from being too close to the ice.

 

Viktor thinks to just let Yuuri be and to try and slip out unnoticed, but that plan is ruined when Yuuri looks up at him and his eyes widen a little, what looks to supposed to be a smile awkwardly twisting onto his lips. It isn’t a smile, though. It comes off as more of a grimace. And then there’s awkward eye contact that even Viktor wants to have never happened.

It’s hard to not think about what Chris said to him about Yuuri. It’s such small detail, but now that he knows it, it almost makes some sense to him with how Yuuri acts around both other and him.

Slowly, Viktor raises a hand in greeting, letting his own smile that hopefully looks a lot less pained than Yuuri’s appear. “Hello, Yuuri,” he greets, nodding his head to finally break the forsaken eye contact that may haunt Viktor for quite some days.

There’s that small turning in Viktor’s stomach again, the same tongue-tied feeling that he gets when around Yuuri approaching again. He wants to say more, even if it’s to announce his leave, but he can’t. It’s like Yuuri has a spell on him, one that immediately makes him reduced to having no words when in his presence. 

He almost feels sick because as soon as the feeling started, it came full force. Without him even realizing, his heart joined in with the madness and Viktor suddenly wants nothing more than to just run away.

Why does he want to run away?

Yuuri nods back after a very long moment. “Viktor. Congratulations. Again. And good luck with the exhibition. It’s a good costume that you have. Bright colours, and- sorry. Sorry.”

Yuuri looks mortified. Viktor _feels_ mortified. He vaguely notices the way that Yuuri’s face is now bright red, and not from the cold of the ice. Viktor imagines that his face probably matches that bright tone.

He can’t just leave Yuuri now. Not after… that. It’d send a very bad message. Very bad. But he can’t speak, his stomach feeling like it’s ready to just depart from him completely. 

Well, he has to try at least.

“Ah, spasibo. Thank you. Thanks.” Any more things he wants to try and say?

His heart seems torn between fluttering in anxiety and just short of stopping completely for the same reason. Viktor can’t say he’s anywhere near a fan of this feeling.

“Good luck as well. To you.” You him. To Yuuri. “Your costume is good too.”

Oh g-d. And then he went around and said that. Okay, well. So he wants to crawl under a bed and hide and never come out again. That’s fair.

“I’m going to try to see Yakov to talk about… things. From these days,” Viktor mumbles putting his head down. Without waiting for any more acknowledgement from Yuuri, he quickly slips around him, leaving the locker room.

 

Viktor continues to avoid any really crowded areas until the silver medalists are set to skate. When he hears the announcements for the second place pairs, he slowly makes his way to the ice to watch the performances rink side, happily admiring the performances of names he both does and doesn’t know.

Until Katsuki Yuuri shows up on the ice.

That’s a name he knows for sure.

He looks a lot calmer now, Viktor thinks, graceful as he steps onto the ice. The low lights above cause the blues of his costume to shimmer, shifting about in soft movements. They capture Viktor in their beauty, the lighter tones almost taunting him as they spread across Yuuri’s chest, chasing each other.

When Yuuri moves, Viktor doesn’t, his breath caught in his throat for the first few seconds.

Yuuri is beautiful. Viktor can’t help but think it as he soars across the ice, the way he brings an extravagant dynamic to the programs with what looks to be absolutely no effort.

Viktor wishes that he can skate alongside Katsuki Yuuri one day. 

The movements lull Viktor into a calm, wash away all other emotions beyond a bit of determination. He follows every step sequence, every spin and turn, every odd counter that Yuuri throws in. He watches it and absorbs it, admires it. 

It’s disappointing when the music cuts to an end, Yuuri skating to the exit, a ways away from where Viktor stands. He wants to go to Yuuri, to tell him just how good he was, how much Viktor enjoys his skating.

But he doesn’t. Not this, time at least. Viktor knows there will be other times for him to compliment the other skater, surely, so for now, he needs to focus on his own skating. Chris said Yuuri is a fan of his skating; that means Yuuri likely watches his skating, just like Viktor watches Yuuri, so Viktor is going to try his damndest to give Yuuri one of his best exhibitions.

As the rest of the skaters before him move through, Viktor can’t help but think that he’s missing something. He looks down at his costume, and back to the ice countless times, unable to put his finger on the missing thing. 

And then Yuuri is in the corner of his eye again, the blue blob unmistakably him. And Viktor figure it out.

He’s missing something blue to his costume.

Viktor think he’s growing to like the colour blue more than ever before. Blue is the colour of his soulmate, and blue is the colour of Katsuki Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhh follow me on tungle @ shomouno if u want to see my fall apart daily k thanks
> 
> translations of the french:
> 
> "je t'ai vu" - i saw you  
> "et yuuri" - and yuuri  
> "hier" - yesterday  
> "tu connais lui?" - you know him?  
> "quand j'etais un junior on a parlé" - when i was a junior we spoke  
> "il a été toujours plus d'aimable" - he was always very (i shot myself on this translation idk the direct translation of aimable to english but i think it means like,, nice?? fjsj)  
> "comment va-t-il? il retourne à la glace encore cet an" - how is he doing? he returns back to the ice this year


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, four months later: hey yall 
> 
> uh,.. comments. recap of my life. shoma won skate canada. china, wakaba is robbed. boyang is robbed. javi is an icon for still skating and i love him. i love him. france. shoma is recorvering from being sick. icon getting the flu going around international skaters. his quad flip in the sp scared the shit out of me. i love him. javi wins. i love him too. yuzuru got injured. it fucked me up. nam had another melt down. rostelecom and nhk weren't good for him. im sorry for your loss, nam. i got into power bottom discourse in a skate america stream. im not a power bottom. im not a bottom at all. grand prix final fucked me up. shoma deserved gold but he had to wingle them fingers huh isu really hates japanese people. shoma fell on a 3a into the splits except he's not flexible enough for them the icon i love him. he won japanese championship again because yuzuru wasnt there. i love shoma uno. he got 45mins of sleep. a literal icon. i love him. wakaba deserved to go to olys. usa nats. mirai was robbed. bradie tennel shouldnt have won or gone to olys. nathan cut his hair. wtf nathan. i know other skater share the sentiment. canadian nats happened. nam nguyen was robbed. keegan mesing shouldnt have gone. nam deserved that olympic spot. canadian fed hates asian. other skaters share this sentiment. four continents happened. shoma wore piss. i hated him for a good hot minute. i know other skaters shared the sentiment. nam nguyen killed the sp and did an oopsies on the fs. it's ok. i still love him. boyang won 4cc and stopped shoma from being the top male skater in the world. boyang is an icon. i love him as much as i love shoma. elladj was doing backflips over people after the power went out in 4cc gala. an icon. shoma cried in a corner. a bigger icon. olympics happened. satoko miyahara was robbed. isu hates japanese people, especially the ladies. ashley wagner was absent. bradie tennel didnt deserve the spot. i miss wakaba. nam should have been there. sui/han were robbed. fuck the isu. yuzuru icon i love him. shoma icon i love him too. and javi and nathan and boyang and vincent and adam the immortal glamazon. yuzuru is still injured. he talks about quad axels. i cry. uuuuh that's about it.

Between France and Russia, Viktor doesn’t forget about Yuuri. It’s impossible to forget him, to forget his skating, his voice, his eyes. It’s impossible to forget.

Maybe it distracts him, Viktor can’t tell. Yakov seems somewhat frustrated with his skating, but it’s not the most unusual thing, so for all Viktor knows, his coach is just in his normal state of unpleased. Personally, Viktor thinks his programs are strongly improving, especially his free skate, but he doesn’t want to ask, so he can’t really tell.

Which is okay, Viktor thinks.

He doesn’t need the distraction of Yakov, really. Not when he’s skating to program themes such as what he is. Viktor can’t say he exactly longs for Yakov in any way, so having his coach on his mind during programs would do him absolutely no good. It doesn’t matter what Yakov thinks about it.

Viktor wishes he know what Yuuri felt about it, though.

He knows how his soulmate feels about it, vaguely. Well, not really, actually. The only thing he’s ever really felt during the performances so far is intense anxiety, and Viktor surely hopes that the anxiety isn’t stemming from his program. And, well, there’s happiness too, of course. At the end, his soulmate has a tendency to feel happy, so hopefully he likes the programs. Or at least his skating, he supposes. Viktor hopes to everything out there that his skating isn’t what causes the anxiety. Anything but that heart stopping anxiety.

 

Home competitions are nice. While traveling is fun and he genuinely enjoys the way that his job ends up having him travel often, there’s always something unique to performing in Russia. At first he thought maybe it was the audience, that he knows the language and the people, others would likely say it’s because of judged leaning in his bias even more. But Viktor finds, after years, that it’s the familiarity of everything. No matter the area of Russia he’s sent to, there’s always that sense of _home_ that can’t be found anywhere else.

Russia is home.

Despite all the faults, he competes under the Russian flag, for the Russian federation of skating. This is home, where his family is, where his people are.

When he steps onto the ice for his short program, it’s with a calm feeling. It may not be his rink that he’s skating in, but it’s still his ice. His home, his life. These are his people around him, screaming for him, clapping for him, excited for him. If everything were to be stripped from him, soulmark and all, he’d still have this, still have Russia.

Nobody can be surprised when he takes the lead, his short program a solid 10.27 points ahead of the second place short program. Nobody is surprised when he’s in the middle of the conference table for the interviews, when he speaks with assurance about the upcoming free skate.

Nobody can come close to dethroning the king when he’s on his home ground.

Sure, he can be defeated. Earlier in the series, he can be defeated. Grand Prix assignments aren’t always a guaranteed win for him; he’s only human, he makes mistakes, he falls, has bad days, he loses. But in Russia, he does not have bad days, does not lose, does not make the same mistakes he does everywhere else. With the ice of his home under his blade, he’s propelled into victory above all else.

Nothing can stand between him, his cheering fans, and a gold medal.

When he steps onto the ice for the short program, there’s no doubt in him, every stroke on the ice assured. He has this competition, easily his for the win.

The short program is nothing short of spectacular, Viktor refusing to miss a beat, and when he finishes, the air around him is charged, promises of how the free skate will go being whispered into his ear, promises of glory.

It’s been a while - a long while - since Viktor has been able to feel the thrill of competition to this extent. Part of him wants to say that it’s the promise of going to the Final off of two gold medals, or even just going to the Final in general, but he knows better. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wants to put on a show.

Every time he skates in public practices, there’s an impossible to miss feeling of sheer excitement that runs through him. When he steps onto the ice for his free skate, it’s ten times stronger, mixed with his own excitement. Every part of him is vibrating. Gone is the anxiety from France, replaced with any good feeling he can think of, mixed together and promising for an energizing performance. 

Viktor’s opening jump is a quad flip. When his toe pick meet the ice, it feels like it’s flying atop the ice, for all of the few moments he’s in the air, and he lands, perfect, free.

Every movement of his is guided with emotion down to every part of his body, each twitch of fingers deliberate in his telling of his story as the deep, longing sound of Stammi Vicino rings out around him, encompassing his body and mind. Nothing can touch him here, no wrong can happen as he comes to pour his soul to all willing to watch.

His quad toe is landed, his triple axel is landed.

Nothing can touch him, not here. There air encompasses him, holding in the music and his very being into a small bubble, the crowd fading away into nothing as he lets his emotions and the program control his very being, free as he reaches out to nothing and everything at once, trying to pull someone in close, longing.

It’s just them, just him, dancing on the ice, spilling everything he has to give for the world to see, except it’s not the world’s to take.

It’ll never be the world’s to take. He doesn’t think of the world when he skates, he thinks of his soulmate, he thinks of who he cares about - his family, his friends, Yuuri. It’s a performance for them, for Viktor himself to express himself in the way he knows best.

All too soon the program is over, yet not soon enough. His body aches, lungs hurt as he bows and makes his way off the ice, Yakov hugging him half heartedly and he doesn’t hug back.

By the time he’s sitting in the kiss and cry, Viktor has water, and there’s no hesitation as he downs half of the bottle graciously, in the time he knows the cameras aren’t on him. He can see them turning back to him, and he smiles, waves, let’s them know he’s okay.

Feels an overwhelming sense of affection well up inside himself.

He pushes it away, just for now as he puts his hands in the shape of a heart, smiling even wider and loudly giving his thanks in different languages.

“The scores please.”

Viktor freezes, waiting. 

His free skate earns a score of 209.67 points. A new world record. Viktor’s eyes go wide, his heart stopping. His combined score is 310.39. 

The stadium erupts in applause and cheer. Yakov slings an arm across his shoulder, shaking him softly but it doesn’t register for Viktor. Nothing but the pride and joy and happiness that’s coming through his very being can be felt, running through his veins and across his nerves.

There are people who doubt him, Viktor thinks, people who say he should just quit already. But as he stares at his score, a stupid smile on his face, retirement is the furthest thing on his mind.

It takes a long moment before Viktor can rise from where he’s sitting, breath still coming out fast as he gives a small bow to the people watching him, waving his hands and again saying thank you. Thank you for their support, for watching him, for their gifts.

He says thank you to all those who love him, to his family and his soulmate.

There’s a commotion at the last part, but he ignores it, still riding high on his scores and the new feeling of adoration that accompanied the comment. He tried his best to return it, though its difficult to do so alongside everything else that he’s feeling, distracted in everything around him and in him.

There’s not much time before the medal ceremony commences, and Viktor’s only a bit more coherent for it, leaning down to hug his fellow medalists while only barely registering who they are. He accepts his medal, goes through the motions, skates around the ice for his victor laps, bows one last time, gives one more heart to his home and people.

It feels magical.

 

The gala practices pass by in a blur, alongside the actual gala. Already, Viktor has his sights set elsewhere, ahead in the future for the final.

Maybe it’s wrong to be lost there instead of staying in the present, wrong to be distant during the banquet and when around fans, but he finds it impossible to keep his mind from wandering the to final where Katsuki Yuuri is meant to be. There was a drive here to perform how he did, to show everyone what he can do, to know _Yuuri_ what he can do.

For all he relished in the emotions of his soulmate during his free skate, Viktor couldn’t help but imagine Yuuri at his side again, dancing as his partner in a hopeless search of love. Or, well, partnership. He really can’t say he loves Yuuri, it’s more of an interest in Yuuri. Something about him draws Viktor to him, and he can’t for the life of him figure out what it is.

But it doesn’t really matter all too much, he thinks. Soon, Yuuri and he will be at the Final together, and that’s more what matters.

Maybe, he thinks, hopefully, Yuuri can even be back at his side on the podium.


End file.
